His By Design (13 page)

She hadn’t expected the kinds of crowds Best Buy and Toys ‘R Us garnered on this, the most heavily shopped day of the year, and she wasn’t disappointed. There was no line waiting for her doors to open and her gut twisted with anxiety. She rubbed her hands down her floor-length black skirt to wipe the moisture from her palms.

Jeff hadn’t arrived yet and she wanted, needed, him here. To help distract her if nothing else. And to bring the trays of tiny puff pastries and petit-fours from Olivia’s bakery, the only task she’d left to him. She refused to call him again and nag.

The Silvercreek Gallery would open in less than an hour. The dream she’d put her hard work, money, and most of all, her heart and soul into was about to be put to the test. She had absolutely no idea what to expect.

So, she paced.

The buzzer at the back entrance made her jump. She hurried to open the door.

Jeff was almost hidden behind the stack of bakery boxes. “Sorry. I rang the bell with my chin rather than setting these on the ground to open the door.” He slid the stack onto a table. “How are you holding up?” He took her hands and spread her arms wide to give her an approving once-over. “You look very professional. And stunningly beautiful.” He tugged her arms around his waist and dipped his head to capture her mouth.

Zoe resisted his embrace until the heat he always generated with his talented mouth caused her muscles to relax. She softened against the hard plane of his chest and felt the bulge in his pants expand. Oh no. They’d used sex to defuse her worries last night, but there was no time for it now. She leaned away and pushed against his chest when he sought to bring her back into his embrace.

“Down, Studley. We have to unpack the hors d’oeurves before I open the doors.” She opened the top box and began to fill platters with the delectable bites. “I think I ordered too many of these. There are only going to be five people here.”

“While that would be fine with me, I’m sure there will be more visitors than you expect. All the town folk will want to come by and see what’s been going on in here the past three months.”

In brand-new jeans, artfully torn at one knee, a black T-shirt and black jacket, he looked every bit the artist. And hotter than hell. His unruly dark hair curled over his collar and she longed to thread her fingers through the tousled mass.

As she set out the last platter she glanced toward the front door. Her heart leapt into her throat. There were people milling about out there. She tugged on Jeff’s sleeve and pointed.

“Okay, sweet cheeks, looks like it’s party time.” He put a hand at the back of her waist and urged her forward. “I’ll, uh, be in the back if you need me.”

“But—” she gasped.

“Hey, this is your show, Zoe. Besides, where are all the other artists whose works are on display here?”

“Several of them will be here. In fact, the metalsmith who did the large piece on the west wall is out there already.” Not willing to spend any time arguing with him, she just shook her head and went to unlock the front door.

“Welcome,” she said, opening the door wide. “Thank you for coming. Take your time to browse. There are refreshments at the rear of the gallery. Some of our artists will be here to answer any questions you may have.”

About fifteen people scattered like balls struck by a pool cue, murmuring as they drifted through the space. Anxious to catch some of their comments, Zoe began circulating with a tray of champagne, answering what questions she could. She turned to find Amanda coming through the door, a happy smile lighting her pretty face.

“Oh, Zoe, everything looks wonderful. You’ve got quite a crowd, too. Fantastic.” She hugged Zoe, who almost dumped the remaining glasses of bubbly on the floor. “Oops, sorry! How about if I take over the champagne duty so you can chat with your customers?”

“Would you? You’re an angel. Put your coat in the back room, down at least one glass to fortify yourself and come on back.”

“Uh, miss?” A middle-aged couple took the last two glasses from her tray and the woman pointed to Jeff’s painting of ‘their’ cove. “We love this work. Can you tell us anything about the artist? The canvas is signed J. Petrosky, but I don’t recognize the name.”

“Yes, this and those other canvases”—Zoe nodded toward the opposite wall—“are all from a new artist we are delighted to show for the first time. It’s wonderful, don’t you agree?” Zoe craned her neck to see over the crowd but at five-foot-three, craning didn’t do much good. Where was that man? She returned her attention to the couple. “The artist is here. Somewhere. I’ll see if I can find him and introduce you.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” the lady gushed. “We seldom get to know the artists whose works we buy, so this will be a special treat.”

“You’re interested in purchasing a piece, then?” Zoe crossed her fingers behind her back.

“Indeed.” The male half of the couple spoke for the first time. “I’m Harry Campbell and this is my wife, Henrietta. We particularly enjoy helping new artists and this work is exceptional. I’m so glad we took a chance and drove here from D.C.”

Zoe’s smile widened. “I am as well. Can I ask how you heard about us?” Finding out which ads brought in the most customers would help her place future notices.

“Well, we’d been browsing in a gallery downtown when the owner came over and suggested we take a look at this place.” The man nodded in appreciation. “Yes, we’ll have to thank him for the tip, won’t we, Henny?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Barker mentioned that he knew you and that the trip would be well worth our time. He was absolutely right.” She beamed at Zoe.

“Yes, that was very kind of him. I-I’ll, uh, be back in a moment.”

Zoe made a beeline to the office, where she found Amanda and Jeff filling another tray with glasses of champagne. She snatched one and downed it, then crumpled into her desk chair.

“Zoe, what’s the matter? You’re shaking like a leaf.” Amanda shot a look over her head at Jeff, who mirrored her concern.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine, really. Simply opening day nerves.” She blew out a breath and pointed at Jeff. “You need to get out there. I’ve had several people comment on your paintings and there’s a couple out there right now waiting to meet you. They’re going to buy one, Jeff, so go make nice and maybe they’ll buy two.” She managed a shaky smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Campbell. Harry and Henrietta. The silver-haired pair practically swooning over the cove painting.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

She sensed his concern was mostly a ploy to delay speaking to the Campbells. She shooed him emphatically toward the front. “Go. Go! I’m fine, I tell you. Do you want to sell anything or not?”

That got him moving, though the expression he wore more closely resembled a politician about to give his first speech. Dutiful, but wary.

“All right,” Amanda said. “Jeff’s gone. Now tell me what has you in such a state.”

Zoe started in on another flute of champagne. “I asked that couple how they’d heard about the gallery.” She finished the second flute. “They told me another gallery owner in D.C. mentioned it to them and suggested it would be worth their while to take the ride over here and see us.” She grimaced. “It was Barker.”

Amanda appeared puzzled. “I know you’re not the best of friends, Zoe, but still, it was awfully nice of him to point some patrons in your direction.”

“I suppose so. I didn’t think he would do something like that, though. And now I’m wondering if he’s going to show up himself.” She tried to hide the shudder that traveled down her back. She grabbed Amanda’s hand. “If he does come, promise me you won’t leave me alone with him? Please?”

“Of course, if that’s what you want.” Amanda’s frown deepened.

“It is. Thanks.” Zoe released her grip and got to her feet. “I’m going back out there. Are you okay with these?” She gestured to the tray full of goblets.

“No problem. I’m right behind you.”

By five o’clock that evening they’d had almost a hundred people come through their doors. Several of the artisans held court near the displays of their works and Zoe had rung up over twenty sales—four of which were Jeff’s and two of her own. She was beyond delighted, especially since it appeared Fredrick was not going to show.

They would stay open until eight and the Christmas lights along Main Street, coupled with glasses of the bubbly, amplified the holiday spirit of her patrons. Gift buying was in full swing.

Marjorie finally appeared and was pleased to discover two of her necklaces and three pairs of earrings had sold. She sought Zoe out and hugged her.

“Thank you so much for letting me put some of my pieces here. I can’t believe you sold so much.”

“I’m not surprised, Marjorie, your work is exquisite. I was afraid you weren’t going to come over before we closed. Do you have guests staying the weekend?”
Guests who might come shopping tomorrow?

“I did have a late arrival. He called to say he’d been delayed and I didn’t want to leave until he showed up.” She frowned slightly. “It was that man who came to see you the day you hurt your finger. Mr. Barker? He requested the same room you’d stayed in while you were there. It seemed a strange request but I couldn’t see any reason to refuse him so I let him have it.”

Instant nausea twisted Zoe’s stomach. She glanced around the crowded space, dreading Fredrick’s appearance but knowing it was inevitable, now. Amanda came by with her try of drinks and Zoe waved her over.

“Zoe, are you okay? You look pale as a ghost.” Amanda slid her tray onto the jewelry counter and took one of Zoe’s hands in her own. “Your hands are like ice, Zo.”

“Too much champagne. Could you keep an eye on things here for a few minutes? I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

“Of course. If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m coming to find you,” Amanda warned.

“I’ll be back, don’t worry.” She bolted for the restroom.

Naturally it was occupied. She considered going up to her apartment, but hated to be out of touch if someone needed her, so she satisfied herself with sitting at her desk, taking deep breaths and attempting to slow her racing pulse.

She contemplated locking herself in and staying here until the gallery closed, but that was a foolish idea. If he came, and she was sure he would, she’d have to talk to him. At least there were plenty of people around.

The thought had barely formed before the door opened and Fredrick Barker entered. Her heart tripled its beats and she pushed back her chair to stand.

“Don’t get up on my account,” he said smoothly, shutting the door behind him and leaning against the hard surface.

She heard the click of the lock. The music and chatter out front was barely audible through the heavy door. Would anyone hear her if she shouted?

“It appears you’ve made a very nice beginning with the gallery, Zoe. There’s quite a crowd out there.”

He sauntered over and leaned against the corner of her desk, effectively trapping her in her chair. She could feel her pulse beat fast and hard in her throat. He’d never dare do anything with so many people close by.

Would he?

Silently she prayed for Jeff to come looking for her. In the meantime she could fake bravery as well as the next girl. She shot Fredrick a disdainful glance.

“I appreciate your referrals, Fredrick. The Campbells were here earlier and purchased two canvases. Very thoughtful of you to direct some of your clients to a competitor.”

“But you’re not my competitor, darling. We both know that sooner or later we’ll be working together again.” He leered at her and leaned over as though to kiss her.

She dodged his attempt and stood, pushing him away to give her room to get around him. Anger rushed heat to her cheeks, scorn curled her lip.

“We will never be partners, Fredrick. Nor will you ever be my boss again. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it until it soaks through that thick skull of yours. The seed money you lent me is all you’ll ever get from me.”

“I think not, my dear.” He grabbed her upper arms and hauled her against him, her resistance futile against his superior strength. His mouth came down on hers with crushing force, the pressure cutting the inside of her lip with her teeth. She jerked her head to the side and he transferred his attentions to her neck, kissing her below her ear then, despite her struggles, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

Wrenching herself out of his grip, she slapped him with all her strength, leaving the imprint of her hand on the side of his face. Her palm burned from the blow.

He laughed. “Such ferocity, my dear. If you’d simply give in to what I know you want, I’m sure you’d find my attentions pleasant enough.”

The last thing she wanted was to make enough of a ruckus to attract the attention of the browsers out front but if the sleazebag didn’t give up and leave, she would have to consider making enough noise for someone to come investigate.

The doorknob rattled and Jeff called her name. Finding it locked, he knocked loudly. “Zoe! Are you in there?” The doorknob shook again.

Relief washed through her and she called, “Just a moment.” She ducked past Fredrick to turn the lock and fling the door open. Jeff looked questioningly from her to the older man, then back again. The mere sight of him steadied her enough for her to sound reasonably normal as she said, “Mr. Barker was just leaving.”

Summoning a condescending smile, Fredrick said with a sneer, “Ah, the young artist. Or is it the handyman?” He scoffed. “Full of yourself now that you’ve actually sold something, are you? I’d watch out if I were you, Mr. Petrosky.” He directed his gaze at Zoe. “I imagine you’ll have no difficulty copying his style, either, will you, dear?” Clearly sure he held the upper hand, Barker brushed past Jeff and sauntered down the hall to the gallery.

“What was that all about?”

Zoe clasped her hands together to hide their shaking, but her lips still trembled and she tasted blood from the cut her teeth had made on the inside of her mouth. She kept her gaze on her shoes until Jeff tilted her chin up. Tears swam in her eyes.

“What did he do?” Anger darkened Jeff’s blue eyes to slate. “That bastard, I’ll—” He turned for the door, and Zoe grabbed his arm.