Lexie and Killian (7 page)

Her reaction warmed his heart.

“So I made a good choice?” he asked, putting his arm around her.

“Totally. Just totally.” She leaned into him. “You’re so good to me.”

He kissed the top of her head, wishing they were alone so he could kiss every part of her body. “Let’s go inside and register.”

Referring to itself as a bed and breakfast hotel, everything in the inn from the décor to the charm transported them back to another century. The lobby was furnished with what he’d read were replicas of eighteenth century pieces, and watercolors of old Savannah hung on the walls. A polished wood table in the center of the lobby offered coffee and tiny pastries.

“So our guests can refresh themselves while checking in,” the clerk behind the desk told them with a grin.

The room they were ushered to was large, the furniture authentic historical reproductions, and the only modern things intruding were the incredible bathroom and the television hidden in an armoire. At the earliest opportunity, he planned to fill up the giant tub and take a long soak. With his wife. Baskets of toiletries and other items had been placed strategically for their use. Everything to cater to the comfort of their guests had been thought of.

He tipped the bellman, closed the door, and turned to Lexie who just stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped together. He could tell how his choice of places to stay still excited her, but now that anxiety she carried with her seemed to have taken over again. Swallowing a sigh, he walked to her and cradled her face in his big hands.

“Darlin’, we can still turn around and go home if you want.” He made his voice deliberately soft and gentle. Even though she’d finally told him every anguished detail of what had happened here in Savannah, he guessed he hadn’t been smart enough to understand the depth to which it affected her. “There’s nothing wrong with changing your mind. In fact, maybe we’d be smart to pack up and head back to the airport.”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s the worst thing I could do. Then everyone would know that…”

“That what, Lexie? That you’ve got better things to do with your art than waste your time with them? Hell, I’ll bet there’s a hundred galleries in New York or Boston or anywhere on the West Coast that would love to display your work.”

“You don’t understand.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If I do that, everyone will see it as running away. The word will spread everywhere, and I won’t even be able to get a showing in the dime store.” She looked away from him. “Besides, I…”

“Besides what, darlin’?” He concentrated on keeping the anger out of his voice. “You aren’t still worried about that asshole, are you?” When she didn’t answer, he put a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up to him. “Is that what’s going on here? You told me you were over him a long time ago.”

God! He had to stifle the wave of jealousy surging through him.

“Oh, no.” She answered him quickly. “No, no, no. I just don’t want to give him the satisfaction of…” She stopped and caught her bottom lip in her teeth.

“Of what, Lexie? Tell me?”

“Of thinking he’s won. That he’s chased me out of my art.”

“Then I think we need to stick with our program.” He brushed his lips over hers. “But only if you can figure out how to relax. You’ll pass out before the show if you don’t.”

“Okay.” She shook out her hands, a gesture he’d seen her use before when tense. “I’ll work on it. But, listen. Right now I need to check on my painting.”

He wanted to laugh except he knew how serious this was to her.

“Darlin’, you called them when you got the email it had been delivered. You called them again before we left, and you checked again in the airport while we were waiting for the luggage. I don’t think they lost it.”

She did that nibbling thing with her lower lip that always drove him wild. He told his dick this wasn’t the time for a happy party.

“I know. I just want to make sure. Okay?”

“Okay. What would you like to do?”

“I want to take a cab over to the gallery and see it with my own eyes.”

She had explained to him that shows were held at many different types of sites. Some were in hotels, some were at event venues, and some were at private galleries if the facility was large enough. This one would be at the Rudman-Speight Gallery, one she assured him was extremely prestigious. Which of course was why she was having multiple nervous breakdowns over it.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He reached for her hand. “Come on. Then we’ll get some lunch.”

But Lexie wasn’t moving.

“Killian?”

Lord, now what?

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Please don’t be mad at me, but I don’t want you to see it until the show tomorrow night.”

What the hell?

“Lexie.” He called up every bit of his dwindling patience. “What the hell is going on here?”

She twisted her hands together. “It’s, uh, sort of a surprise. Please? Just let me do this one thing my way?”

He grasped her small hands in his larger ones, squashing the nervous habit and hoping he was calming her.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, Lexie, but if you want to go by yourself, I guess I’ll have to live with it.” He squeezed her hands gently. “But how about if we do this…is there a nice restaurant near where this gallery is?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “There’s a place called The Lady Adele two blocks down from the gallery. Excellent food, as a matter of fact. Good rich southern cooking.”

“That definitely sounds appealing.” In fact, his mouth was already watering. “How about if we do this. Let’s take a cab to the gallery. I won’t go inside,” he said quickly as she opened her mouth to protest. “Point me in the direction of this Adele’s place, and, when you’re done, you can walk down and meet me there. That work?”

She smiled then, and relief washed over her face.

“That’s perfect. Killian, I’m not doing any of this to make you mad, or to shut you out of this. Please understand. I just have so many ghosts to chase.”

He pulled her against him in a gentle hug. “I know. I just wish you’d let me chase them with you.”

“Soon enough.”

“Then let’s get going. While I’m waiting, I can call the ranch and talk to Stoney, check up on things.”

She laughed a real laugh this time. “And you complain about me? You’ve called the man five times since we left the ranch this morning. He’s liable to quit.”

“Naw. Stoney’s a good old hand. He puts up with me just fine.”

“Puts up being the operative phrase,” she pointed out with a tiny grin. “I’m so glad these guys are working out well.”

“Me, too. We’ve finally passed all the tests with the state, and the vet gave the entire stock a clean bill of health. As soon as we get back, we’re scheduling the first insemination.”

“Until I met you,” she told him, “I thought horses did it the old fashioned way, just like people.”

“Not if you want top quality foals,” he pointed out.

“So I’m beginning to learn. Okay, let’s go downstairs and get a cab. I’ll check on my painting, and you can check on the horses.”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

As they waited in front of the inn for the doorman to hail a cab for him, he couldn’t help wondering yet again what was so mysterious about this particular painting. What was so secretive? Was it the same one she’d entered three years ago and maybe now wanted vindication for? Or did it have something to do with that asshole Rick? Had Lexie been in contact with him? Was more going on here than he knew? Even before he met him, he was ready to punch his lights out.

The cab pulled to the curb, and, as he helped Lexie into it, he made a solemn vow to himself to get to the bottom of everything.

*****

Killian would have dropped her off at the gallery, but Lexie wanted at least the distance of the two blocks separating them. She wasn’t sure if all the entries had been draped and covered or even where hers would be displayed, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d thought long and hard about the three images she’d submitted, crossing her fingers the one she wanted would be selected.

Of course having any of them chosen for entry was a hugely big deal, but to have them want
this
one? It would be like the frosting on the cake. Despite lingering feelings of betrayal and inadequacy from the last show, she had applied for entry and willingly paid the fee to have this work exhibited. When they had chosen her favorite for the competition, she’d screamed with joy and done a little happy dance, glad Killian hadn’t been in the house to hear or see her.

She had actually wrapped it in brown paper herself before Killian drove her to the city to get it shipped. She wasn’t taking any chances he’d catch a glimpse of it and refuse to let her show it. She classified her work as prairie art, leaning toward the Western of Frederick Remington and Charles M. Russell. Except, where they’d concentrated on the West of the late nineteenth century, Lexie had focused on the contemporary scenes of today.

She’d asked the committee contact how the paintings were being staged, especially since this was in a private gallery. She’d breathed a sigh of relief when she was told the gallery would be closed for two days prior to the show with brown paper taped over the windows so no one got a preemptive look.

Standing before the locked front doors, she pulled out the special identification tag she’d been given and knocked.

“Yes?” The door cracked open, and a woman peered out at her. “We’re closed. Didn’t you see the signs?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” She held up her identification. “But I am one of the entrants and I wanted to check on my painting. Is that possible?” She wet her lips. “Please? I just want a peek.”

The woman glanced at the badge and at Lexie and her features softened. “Of course. But be quick about it. The judges will be here this afternoon and will come back to view again tomorrow. That’s when they make their decisions. We’re expected to be ready for them.”

“Of course, of course. Thank you.”

She slid into the gallery, heard the door click shut and lock behind her. She paused, drew in a deep breath to steady herself, and looked around. The huge gallery took up two floors connected by a winding staircase. The entries were everywhere, some hanging on walls, some on easels. Volunteers ran around with checklists in their hands, making sure each one was in its proper place.

“This way.”

The woman nudged her and led her toward the right. And there it was, safely arrived. It hung against a curved wall, with a spotlight arranged just so to bring out the vibrant colors and the careful brush strokes. It was even more striking against the stark white of the wall. She’d known when she finished this it was the piece she would enter. She’d already had it in her mind to apply this year, even as nervous about it as she was.

For one brief moment, the present disappeared and it was three years ago. She was in Savannah, waiting breathlessly for the judges to make their announcements. Rick had stood next to her, his arm around her, whispering encouraging words to her. Words that meant nothing when first place and the solo showing went to him.

Oh, he’d been so self-effacing and so sympathetic. Telling her third place was just a stepping stone and to think of all the other entrants who came away with nothing. That later they’d have a quiet dinner in their room and he’d show her just how wonderful she was. Third, for heaven’s sake, when everyone else said first should have been hers. She’d figured at the time the judges had to give her something, hoping she wouldn’t make a fuss if and when she found out what happened. Not even the praise the critics had given her or the consoling words of other students eased the pain.

She’d actually thought she might get past this and keep trying until she heard two women in the luxurious restroom make sniping remarks about Rick and how his money had bought him the prize. One of the women was a judge who’d laughed about the obscene amount of money he’d offered her and how she knew she’d have been a fool to turn it down.

She’d fled from the restroom as soon as it emptied, raced to their hotel room, thrown her things into a suitcase, and gotten the hell out of there. Rick had called several times afterwards, pleading with her to speak to him, but she’d let everything go to voice mail. Finally, she’d just blocked his calls.

She’d given him everything—her support and encouragement, her body, her heart—and he’d trampled on everything.

Now, with a deliberate effort, she pushed it all out of her mind.

“The painting is gorgeous,” the volunteer standing next to her whispered. “We’re not supposed to have opinions, but it’s impossible. I’ll be surprised if this one doesn’t win.”

Lexie felt herself blush. “Thank you. But a lot of talented people entered.”

“That’s true. But the judges will be looking for the right person, the right talent, not just for the prize but for the solo showing promised to the winner.” She glanced at Lexie, questioningly. “You do have enough for a show, right? If you win?”

“I do.” All the things she’d been painting in secret for two years.

“Well, then. However, I hate to do this, but you’ll need to leave. The judges will begin arriving in about fifteen minutes.”

Lexie nodded. “Understood. And thank you so much for allowing me in to see this.”

“My pleasure. But let’s get you out of here quickly. One of the regulations of this particular show is that the artists have no input on placement of their entries. We try to be impartial about all of them.”

“I know. And thank you again.”

She was trembling when she stepped back out to the sidewalk and heard the lock click into place behind her.

I’m really doing it.

If nothing else, just entering the competition and being selected was a big step to slaying her dragons. If she won, well, maybe she could finally put the past to rest. She just hoped there wouldn’t be a problem when she told the committee the painting was not for sale.

Well, if anyone wanted to buy it, she’d deal with it then.

Chapter Five