Again (27 page)

“Do you not wish me to be here?”

She saw a flicker of uncertainty in those beautiful eyes.
 
She wanted desperately to touch him, to soothe the furrow of his brow, and to trace the soft line of his face.

“Nay, you are indeed most welcome here,” she said softly.  “In truth, there is nothing I could want more.”
 
And that
was
the truth of it, Catherine thought, no matter what had brought him here.

Music filled the air as the musicians began to play.
 
Amidst the ever-growing number of stares, she placed her hand in his and they began to dance.

≈

Galen paused at the entrance to the hall, searching for Catherine.  There she was, laughing so freely, something he rarely saw her do.
 
His jaw clenched until it ached and he damned himself for allowing this to happen.

“It appears you are incapable of keeping our fair lady’s attention, Sir Galen,” Lord Oakley said.

Galen stiffened and instinctively he grasped the hilt of his sword.

Lord Oakley sighed loudly.
 
“Must I take care of this for you?”

Galen’s mood turned dangerous.
 
“You know as well as I there is naught I can do while he is under this roof.
 
But rest assured, I
will
take care of my own.”

Lord Oakley huffed his disagreement.
 
“That has yet to be seen.”

The two men stared at each other, locked in an unspoken challenge, until the fragrance of lilacs surrounded them.
 
Sara appeared at their side and her eyes were alight with satisfaction.
 
She was clearly enjoying the tension.

“It appears to me the true threat stands not here, but over there, with him.
 
Master Jonathan
.”
 
Sara gestured to Catherine and Jonathan who were talking quietly, their heads close together.

Galen broke his icy stare at Lord Oakley and glared at Jonathan.
 
Perhaps there was a chance he could be rid of the merchant, he thought.
 
A small one, but a chance nonetheless.
 
As Lord Oakley and Sara watched, he walked around the crowd to the high table where Lord Roberts sat with his trusted counsel at his side, presiding over the festivities.  Lord Robert’s attention was focused upon his daughter and her unexpected escort.

Galen leaned close to Lord Roberts’ ear.
 
“Shall I escort him to the gate?”
 

Lord Roberts studied the couple for a few moments before responding.  “I do not know who extended an invitation to him, but the man is a guest here, Galen, and I will not have guests mistreated.  We will let it be for now.”  He withdrew a dagger and sheath from his belt and handed it to Galen
 
“I cannot deny his presence here.
 
He has shown due respect by sending a gift ahead of his arrival.”

Galen took the dagger and examined it.
 
The hilt was thick and heavy, fashioned in the likeness of a dragon, and inset with rubies and emeralds.
 
Once unsheathed, the blade glinted fiercely in the light that radiated from the torches that illuminated the hall.
 
Such a fine dagger would slide nicely into the heart of an enemy, he thought, transfixing his gaze upon Jonathan.

Lord Roberts laughed and held out his hand. “Give me the dagger, Galen.”
 
He looked between Galen and Jonathan.
 
“Competition is a good thing.
 
Makes the fire run through a man’s blood.”
 
He winked.
 
“Winning the heart of a woman, Galen, should never be so easy.” 

Chapter 27

The turnout for her gallery reception was a lot better than she had hoped for.
 
Eryn was pleased with the attention her latest work was getting.
  
Lately she had been driving around to the seedy little pockets of the city, seeking out the faces of the homeless, the runaways, and the children - the nameless faces the rich found so easy to ignore.
 
These were the people who didn’t have the advantages and money that she had, but they were no different.
 
She had decided to let the Haves get a good look at the Have-nots.
 

Yes, this was definitely good, she thought, unable to hold back a smile.

She glanced around the gallery.
 
No sign of Bryce yet.
 
It wasn’t like him to be so late.
 
Eryn sighed.
 
Would things ever be right with them?
 

“Great crowd.”
 
Melissa, the owner of the gallery and Eryn’s friend, appeared beside her, obviously pleased.
 
“I think you found your niche.”

Eryn had to admit that stepping out of the stuffy corporate boardroom and into the real, gritty world outside really had made a difference in her photography.

“There was a man here asking about you, but he didn’t tell me his name.”
 
Melissa said, eyeing the crowd.

Eryn groaned.
 
Troy.
 
Who else would it be?
 
It would be so like him to start it up again.
 
“Blonde?” Eryn asked, her senses now alert, scanning the crowd.

“No.
 
Dark brown, actually, and long.
 
This guy was
extremely
sexy,” Melissa said with a deep sigh.
 
“Shoulders like this.”
 
She held her hands out, indicating wide shoulders.
 
“Butt like this…”
 
She started to demonstrate how tight his backside was when Eryn laughed and stopped her.

“Okay, okay!
 
I get the picture.
 
He was gorgeous!”

“I would take him in a heartbeat,” Melissa said, nudging Eryn with her elbow. “You’ve already got one of those at home, don’t you?”

Eryn’s laughter faded.
 
“Yeah, I do, don’t I?”
 
She looked at her watch.
 
So where was he?

“Oh!
 
Oh! There’s the guy who was asking about you!”
 
Melissa grabbed Eryn’s elbow and nodded towards the right wall of the gallery.
 
“Damn, he is yummy!”

Eryn’s attention shot over to the section that featured her images of the homeless men and women who found shelter along the beaches, and she felt her jaw go slack.

“It’s him,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

“You
know
him?”
 
Melissa’s brows shot up.

Eryn straightened up, shaking off her surprise.
 
“Sort of,” she said.
 
“I first met him a long time ago.”
 
She looked at Melissa and let out a laugh of embarrassment.
 
“And then a few weeks ago I almost hit him with my car at the beach.”

Melissa laughed, looking back at him. “Well, it looks like he’s forgiven you.”

“Yeah.”
 
Eryn bit her lip.
 
“Maybe so.”

With his hands shoved in his white linen cargo pants pockets, dark blue Tommy Bahama shirt hanging loosely on his muscular frame, he was leaning in close to one of the photographs, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
 
He stood back, head tilted, and his smile grew.
 
He nodded in satisfaction before moving over to the next picture.

Eryn stood, unbelieving, watching him sweep his attention over each one of her pictures.
 
He was
really looking
, actually taking in the details, and seeming to appreciate what he saw.

Bryce would have barely given her work a glance.
 
Maybe he would have said a courteous “nice work” before moving on to something that truly mattered to
him
.
 
But there was no doubt this man was interested.
 

He had pulled his hair back in a leather tie, giving Eryn full view of his profile.
 
Smooth sun-tanned skin graced his straight nose, high cheek bones, and solid jaw and chin.
 
Full, sensual lips curved up in a smile.
 
His eyes, under dark brows and thick lashes, narrowing once in awhile, took in everything before him.

Maybe it’s time I introduced myself, Eryn thought.
 
After all, this is the third time he has popped into my life.
 
The only thing standing between friends and strangers were names, right?
 
She swiped her hands nervously down her hips, realizing her palms were sweating. Would he remember her from ten years ago?
 
Would he know it was she who almost hit him and his friends with her car?

Eryn hadn’t realized Melissa had left until her friend flanked her again, this time in the company of two older patrons.
 
The man was tall, dressed flawlessly in an Armani suit and polished shoes while his wife, much shorter, was covered in folds of silk, fashionably hiding her round figure.
 
Both looked eagerly towards Eryn.

“Get that glazed look off your face and close your mouth a little,” Melissa whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
 
“Eryn,” she said louder. “This is Richard and Cynda Carleton.
 
They own a gallery in Beverly Hills and they’d like to talk to you about featuring your work there.”

Eryn was about to drag her eyes from the man when he turned and locked his gaze with hers.
 
His smile told her all she needed to know.
 
Yeah, he remembered.

Melissa gave Eryn’s hip a bruising pinch.
 
“Mr. and Mrs. Carleton have a special interest in the runaways and homeless, particularly in Hollywood.
 
They’d like to showcase your work as part of a project that they’re having a fundraiser for.”

Obligingly, Eryn focused her attention on the couple and put on her warmest smile, extending her hand to the couple.
 
“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.
 
I’d like to hear more of your project.”

“Good,” said Melissa, relief evident in her tone.
 
“I’ll take care of your clients, Eryn.”
 
With a quirk of her brow in Eryn’s direction, she left.

Eryn tried to position herself so that she could discreetly keep her eye on the room, but eventually got caught up in the conversation.
 
She was thrilled to meet someone with money and status who was actually going to use it for the good of the less fortunate.

When the older couple finally took their leave, Eryn searched the room, hoping Mr. Tommy Bahama was still there.
 
She felt foolish, though, to think he would wait around all night for her.
 

She wandered over to the picture she had seen him stare at so intently.
 
It was the image of the old man she had given her lunch to.
 
Eryn had transformed the picture into a black and white image, with the only color in the picture being the bright yellow surfboard shooting across the face of the wave behind the old man.
 
She looked closer, seeing the deep wrinkles on the man’s face, his wispy hair escaping the confines of his filthy baseball cap, and, just beyond his shoulder, the surfer.
 
She stood back, and then stepped in close again.
 

“No way,” she whispered.
 
“No friggin’ way.”

“That’s him in the picture.”
 
Melissa appeared behind her.
 
“And he liked it so much, he bought it.
 
That and a couple of others.”

Eryn spun around, eyes wide.
 
“He bought
three
photos?”

Melissa laughed.
 
“All cash.
 
I told you I’d take care of your clients.”

Unbelievable, Eryn thought.
 
Even with total access to her work, Bryce has never asked her for a picture to hang on their walls.
 
Speaking of which, where the hell was he?

≈

“Do you mind?”
 
Bryce growled at Brandi, standing in the open doorway that he distinctly remembered shutting a few minutes before.

Brandi smiled, not in the least bit deterred by the fact that he was standing there in his towel, his chest flexed and tensed under her gaze.
 
“On your way to see her show?”

“Yeah, and if you were half the friend you pretend to be, you’d be going, too.”
 
He turned towards the closet and disappeared inside it.

“Nah,” she said, following him.
 
“She probably wouldn’t even notice I was there.
 
Or you, for that matter.”

He clenched his jaw.
 
He was so sorry he’d allowed Eryn to talk him into letting Brandi stay.
 
The woman was poison in its most potent form.