The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy) Page 4
Stacie handed Jeffries her computer bag, which he stowed in the trunk. ‘Sorry it’s so heavy,’ she called after him. ‘I travel light clothing-wise, but books – well, I still like the real thing.’ Still talking to the chauffeur, she headed toward the limo and missed the last step off the porch. With a startled yelp, she fell heavily against Harris, who was standing just below her, still looking after the retreating Dee. Combined with the forward momentum of someone who had someplace important to go, the woman would have done a complete nosedive onto the driveway if Harris hadn’t caught her.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.’ She tried to pull away, but even that move was none too stable, so Harris did the only thing he could. He held her there, pressed to his chest. ‘I told you I’m clumsy. I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention, and –’
‘And it was a good thing I was here to catch you. The sidewalk’s not nearly as forgiving.’
‘I’m not entirely certain of that, Mr. Walker.’ Her voice was breathless and her words unsure. Was she actually nervous, the woman who never was anything but sure of herself?
‘Perhaps not then, but I’m definitely less painful.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ she repeated in a half-whisper. ‘I’m not very safe to be around sometimes.’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ he said. And then he did the dumbest thing ever – something he would have never imagined himself doing. He lifted her in his arms and felt her little gasp of surprise, felt her arms circle his neck as he carried her to the open door of the limo and deposited her on the seat way more gracefully than he would have imagined himself capable. In his head, he gave himself a high five just before he gave himself a mental kick in the ass for doing something so stupid. ‘You don’t want to go to your big auction tomorrow night with a concussion or a broken ankle, so at least this guarantees your safe arrival at the limo.’ God, could he sound any more lame?
She smiled up at him and found her voice. ‘Harris, I need to ask you something.’
Jesus, was she really going to choose now to ask him about the exhibition? His shoulders stiffened, but if she noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she slid a hand down to rest against the breast pocket of his shirt where he’d absently stuffed the offending BlackBerry after she interrupted his conversation with Dee earlier in the woods. ‘Please remember to turn off your BlackBerry next time you’re in the woods with the owls or the mountain lions. How could I live with myself if I were the cause of serious injuries to a man who takes such wonderful photos?’
Dee chose that moment to return with a goody bag Harris figured contained a lot more than cake. The two women hugged and giggled their goodbyes while he stood back, wondering what the hell just happened and why he was the one who now felt unsteady on his feet.
As the limo pulled away, Dee grabbed his hand and guided him back into the house, where cake had been served in the den in front of the big stone fireplace, and Ellis, who had finished his phone call, was pouring coffee.
She waited until they were all settled with coffee and huge wedges of cake before she offered him a wicked smile. ‘I don’t know if Stacie was impressed with your show of manly strength, but I certainly was.’
Ellis raised a questioning eyebrow. Harris blushed. ‘The woman’s dangerous,’ he said. ‘She tripped.’
Ellis nodded. ‘She does that a lot. She’s not the most coordinated person in the world. Though you’d never know that when you put her in a room full of wealthy people she thinks can contribute to a good cause. Then she’s the picture of grace and charm.’
‘Well, I’m so glad you were there to catch her and carry her safely to the limo so she’ll have the chance to charm that room full of rich folks out of their money,’ Dee said.
‘Carried her to the limo?’ Ellis asked.
‘The woman’s dangerous,’ Harris grumped, ‘and personally I think it was pretty manipulative of her to get you to invite her for dinner too.’
Ellis and Dee looked at each other and shrugged, so he continued. ‘And then she didn’t even have the nerve to confront me about why she was here.’
‘She was here because we invited her,’ Dee said. ‘And there was no manipulation. She was invited first. It gave us a chance for a little catch-up and made her trip to the airport easier with the limo. You’re the one who invited yourself along, Harris. And if you’d read your emails, you’d have known she was going to be here.’ She sat her coffee cup down, folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. ‘Were you rude to her?’
‘Not deliberately.’
‘What do you mean not deliberately? How can you be rude to somebody not deliberately?’
‘She accidentally overheard our conversation on the BlackBerry before dinner.’
‘Jesus, Harris!’
‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting her to sneak up on me.’
‘Did you apologize?’
‘Of course I apologized. Kind of.’
‘Well she didn’t seem too upset by whatever it was you said,’ Ellis commented.
‘Then the woman’s a saint, I’d say.’ Dee returned to sipping her coffee. ‘Because you weren’t very nice at all.’
‘Dee –’ Ellis laid a kiss against her temple and slid an arm around her. ‘It’s all right. Stacie can fight her own battles, and if she were really bothered by what Harris said, believe me, she’d have let him know.’
‘Dee’s right,’ Harris said. ‘I was rude. I’ll make sure I apologize properly.’ Even as he said it – and he meant it, he really did – he braced himself for what he figured would be a suggestion that he might apologize to her by listening to her proposal to have him exhibit his work for the opening of her gallery. But it didn’t come.
They finished their cake in more companionable conversation. When they were done, Harris excused himself. He’d been up all night the night before and hadn’t slept much that day, so he was ready for a rest, and he knew Dee and Ellis had limited time together with their busy schedules, so he said his goodbyes.
At the door, Dee gave him her usual bear hug and a kiss that almost missed his ear, and Ellis gave him a nod.
‘We still kayaking Sunday morning?’ Ellis asked.
‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ Harris replied. ‘And since Dee can’t make it, how about we grill some steaks after when she’s free to join us, and maybe invite that no-account brother of yours, and Kendra.’ Then, as an afterthought, he added sheepishly, ‘And we can invite Stacie too if she’s back.’
‘She won’t be,’ Dee said. ‘She won’t be back till Monday, but knowing there are steaks waiting and an icy bottle of Mirror Pond would make me feel a little less sorry for myself for having to work Sunday.’ Dee had a meeting with a client in Eugene she’d been trying to get with for several months, so when he’d offered her Sunday morning, she had taken it.
‘Kayaking in the morning then steaks in the afternoon,’ Harris said. ‘It’s a deal.’
Before he could leave, Dee handed him a huge slice of the red velvet cake in a plastic container and offered him a wicked smile. ‘Breakfast.’
Chapter Four
The red-eye to New York was definitely not Stacie’s favorite flight, but she was way more familiar with it than she wished she was. Though she always slept well on planes, these days, with the opening of the new gallery and the big auction coming up, she had designated the fight between Portland and New York as office time. It was like having an extra five hours added to the work day. The attendants knew her fairly well by now, and kept the caffeine coming. Tonight, she broke protocol and indulged in one of the three hefty pieces of red velvet cake Dee had sent with her. Her quick search through Dee’s care package showed she’d stuck a couple of Galina’s homemade cinnamon rolls in as well. Breakfast was sorted.
It was especially good to be busy after her earlier dealings with Jamison. He hadn’t texted again, but then she hadn’t expected him to. Not just yet. He would give her just enough time to think everything was all right, just e
nough time to doubt herself, before he escalated things. When she’d left for Ellis’ in the evening, the workmen had made major progress on cleaning up the paint damage to the main exhibition hall. The gallery would open on time no matter what she had to do to make it happen. That was essential.
Having the lovely time with Ellis and Dee, and even a sexily uncooperative, but very intriguing, Harris Walker had helped ease the angst. Still, even with the heavy workload, even with all the tasks demanding her attention, it was the middle of the night and she was 36,000 feet in the air. Everyone around her slept; it was impossible to keep her thoughts from drifting. When she was alone and tired and heading back to New York, back to where it had all begun, it was impossible not to let memories skulk in and rise from the places in her unconscious where she’d buried them. Who could have ever imagined that anything with such a promising beginning could turn into such a nightmare?
That first night had literally sparkled. Stacie had sparkled. Never mind everything she wore came from charity shops. Only she knew that, and she knew how to make the best of what she had. She’d always known that. But it wasn’t the chic black dress and expensive-looking fake pearls that made her sparkle; it was the fact that this was her second big exhibition for New World Gallery since Zoe had turned over the running of events to her. Both events had been highly lucrative for the gallery and the artists, drawing the attention of the powers-that-be among the art world; something that New World Gallery had never quite managed to do until Stacie took over. Zoe was beside herself with excitement, and Stacie was the toast of the evening. She was just wrapping up an interview with a reporter from the New York Times for a series on small galleries in the city worth checking out, when Zoe motioned her over.
There’d been a million exciting things on Stacie’s mind that night. She was riding the adrenaline high of success, enjoying the feeling of having possibly found her niche. At the time, all she knew about Terrance Jamison was that he’d helped Zoe out financially with the gallery when things were lean. Stacie suspected that Zoe’s admiration of the man ran in directions that had little to do with business, but Zoe had never said anything. Stacie was still thinking about the reporter from the New York Times when she found herself face to face with a man who took her breath away. It wasn’t so much that he was handsome, though he was that in a strange way. It was that he was powerful and just being in his presence was all that was necessary for one to be completely certain of that. He’d already taken her palm into his strong, well-manicured hand before Zoe was able to say, ‘Stacie, this is Terrance Jamison, and he’s been wanting to meet you.’
The man’s short hair was that shade of blond that would never show grey, or perhaps it was already grey. At any rate, his age was impossible to determine from the strong lines of a face that might have been handsomely nondescript had it not been for the startling icy blue of his eyes. And it wasn’t even the color of his eyes that made Stacie’s heart race in an adrenaline spike, but something about the way the broad smile he offered her and the geniality of his greeting never quite reached those eyes.
She noticed all that, along with his desert heat scent, before she managed to focus on his words. He was saying something about how delighted he was to meet her and what a wonderful job she was doing. She realized she had only been smiling and nodding dumbly until he raised her fingers to his lips and brushed them with a kiss that was cooler than his desert scent would have suggested, more in line with his icy eyes, and yet she felt it as though he had brushed her pulse points, her throat, the tips of her nipples, her inner thighs.
‘Thank you, Mr. Jamison,’ she managed as he stood there, still holding her hand, and she stood there, looking into his eyes, wanting to run away even as she felt her own lips tingle and tense and wonder what it would feel like to taste that mouth that smiled so handsomely for the rest of his face.
Zoe was talking about Jamison Holdings and about Omega Trust, the organization Jamison ran that had been of so much help to New World Gallery during its difficult times. Stacie could tell then that Zoe had been drinking a bit more than she should, but it was a celebration, after all, and the night had certainly been something to celebrate. But Jamison totally ignored Zoe; his complete attention was on Stacie.
‘You’re the toast of the town, Ms. Emerson. In New York City, that’s no small task.’ He stepped closer, still holding her hand in his. ‘I’ve been dying to meet you ever since I heard about Zoe’s wonderful new assistant. It seems like you’re very much up to the task. In fact –’ he stepped still closer ‘– I think Zoe could just turn the shop over to you and take that long overdue holiday she’s so much in need of.’ His fingers were massaging hers in tight, circular motions that she was definitely feeling in places beyond her fingers. It was disconcerting to both be frightened for some irrational reason and, at the same time, want to drag the man to the back room and throw herself on him. Stacie was used to men ogling her. She had her mother’s good looks and her father’s height. She could handle just about any advance and had handled more than a few, but this man wasn’t putting the move on her. It felt more like he was hypnotizing her with his eyes, with his touch, with his scent.
‘Do you dance, Stacie?’ he was asking. ‘It is all right if I call you Stacie, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Stacie’s fine, and I do dance, yes.’
‘Wonderful, that’s wonderful! Perhaps I could interest you in –’
‘Excuse me, but I think you’ve commandeered this little lady long enough, Jamison, and she and I have some unfinished business.’ It was that irritating Alan Marston with his loudmouth southern accent who shoved his way in, front and center, and took Stacie by the arm. Jamison only nodded politely to Marston, with just a twitch at one corner of his smile, but even then, whatever passed between the two men gave Stacie a chill.
‘Very well. I won’t deny you the pleasure of Ms. Emerson’s company, Marston.’ By that time, Zoe had taken Jamison’s arm. His winter gaze lit once again on Stacie, and for some reason she felt strangely exposed. ‘We’ll talk later, my dear, I’m sure.’ Again he brushed a kiss across her knuckles and her insides fluttered like so much down caught in the wind. ‘Until then, Stacie.’
Marston had written a huge check to the gallery, and in exchange for just enough of her time that when they were finished, Zoe and Terrance Jamison were nowhere to be found. And, even mingled with her disappointment, she felt his absence almost like the absence of pain.
That night, she had masturbated to thoughts of Jamison, to what it would feel like to be in his arms, and the edge of danger she had felt in his presence sent her into shudders of orgasm in the safety of her own bed. Back then, she hadn’t yet known how fleeting a thing safety could be.
It was a relief when the pilot announced their descent into LaGuardia. Strolls down memory lane involving Terrance Jamison were not her favorite pastime on a night flight. The descent was fairly fast, and they were on the ground almost before she knew it. With only carry-on luggage, she was swiftly in the taxi and on the way to the flat above the gallery. She’d already sold her own apartment for a very hefty profit and was renting a small place in Portland until she had time to look for a house. She was looking forward to having a place with a garden, some flowers, maybe a place outside the city, where she could see if she still remembered how to use a telescope to view the night sky. Maggie was quite capable of running the New York gallery and Stacie was looking forward to being home on the West Coast after so long away.
When things had gone to hell between her and the Thorne brothers, she and Garrett had fled to different parts of the country. Garrett had never been anywhere longer than a few months. That’s why everyone thought he was unemployed, living off Ellis’ money. Truth was, he just couldn’t settle with the guilt he bore, the guilt they both bore.
She had fled to New York. There she had finished university, shifted around from one boring job to another, then got hired on by her friend, Zoe Hanson, who owned a gallery that was barely
keeping its head above water financially. The rest was history.
She checked down through her emails. Mostly the usual stuff. A few from Maggie, just letting her know that all was on track for the auction. Maggie had learned that Stacie really liked to be reassured. There were emails from Dee and Kendra and both Thorne brothers wishing her the best with the auction. She knew there would be a hefty check of a donation from Garrett, who contributed as Tess Delaney. Tucked in unobtrusively amid the emails from contributors, the workers on the gallery renovations in Portland, and even one from Al Marston, was an email from Harris Walker.
She opened it with a smile and a little eruption of butterflies as she remembered him lifting her as if she weighed nothing and carrying her to the limo. Nice arms, she thought, and a nice, hard chest. But then the man did climb trees to photograph owls and mountain lions. She opened the email.
Stacie,
I owe you a huge apology for being so rude. I’ve been properly enlightened by Dee that you did not manipulate to get me to dinner at Ellis’ (which was delicious and would have been worth attending even if you had, by the way.) In truth, it was actually I who invited myself along for the food and the views. You were far better behaved than I was. I’ll try to be more civilized in the future.
Harris
She tapped in a quick answer.
Apology accepted, Mr. Walker. And it was indeed a delightful dinner.
She thought about using his goodwill to ask him again to meet with her, but she decided not to. Not just yet. She decided just to bask in Harris Walker’s rather stingily given goodwill. Just for a little while. And when this insane weekend was over and the auction behind her, she’d scheme another way to get him to relent and exhibit his photos with her.
Stacie paid the cab driver, who dropped her off outside the closed gallery only a little while before sunrise. She made her way up the stairs in the back to the flat that belonged to the gallery, the flat that used to be her home before she was able to turn the gallery around. She let herself in, pulled down the Murphy bed, and stripped. She slid under the covers and within minutes she was sound asleep.