Winning Appeal (7 page)

“I’m glad, believe me. Still, he has a point when it comes to not letting it interfere with work. I was thinking that we should also limit sex to weekends, just for now. I don’t concentrate very well when I’m exhausted, and until I get used to being with you, I have a feeling I’m going to be keeping us busy at night.”

“That’s good,” she said breathily, looking a little dazed. I smiled and she seemed to give herself a mental shake. “I mean that’s fair. Okay, only on weekends for now, not in the office, or at fundraisers, but maybe we can have a sexy tryst somewhere else?”

“I’m sure I could come up with something,” I said and she smiled a distinctly
happy
smile.

Beth

The fundraiser the following evening was being held at the Gerard estate. Like my own family, the Gerard family had established a private charitable foundation that supported various worthy causes and community-based projects.

Mark and I looked like we had just stepped out of the Roaring 20’s. He was nattily dressed in a maroon blazer with white stripes, white trousers and a black bow tie. I wore a mauve-colored dress cut in a drop-waist style, with ropes of pearls around my neck and a sequined band with a feather on my head.

We exited our car, and once again, faced a gauntlet of waiting journalists and photographers, a necessary evil to bring publicity to a cause. They stood waiting in a roped-off area just outside the festivities, and one had to walk a path right through them to get to the party. I felt like I was navigating between the Scylla and Charybdis.

The onslaught started with the more serious journalists who were interested in a political tidbit. “Ms. Pierce, when will your father be back in the district?… Ms. Pierce, is your father planning to?… How is Senator Pierce planning to vote on?…”

Then came the paparazzi and the tabloid reporters, who were less formal with their address. “You’re looking quite handsome this evening Mark,” said the female journalist who had eyed him up the week before. “Will you be a regular attendee at these functions going forward?”

“As long as Ms. Pierce can put up with my company,” he answered and I reached out and took his hand and cameras started clicking everywhere.

“So, you’re confirming that the two of you are an item now?” shouted the same obnoxious guy with the slicked down black hair and bling who had been at the art museum. Once again, he was standing next to the brassy haired reporter.

We didn’t bother to answer him; we just put our heads down and kept walking toward the party. The questions didn’t stop, though. The reporters and paparazzi just shouted at us more loudly as we retreated.

“Any wedding plans?”… “Any political ambitions of your own Mark?”

As we got closer, I saw that the trees outside the mansion had been strung with lights, and a jazz quartet was playing on the porch. People were milling about holding champagne flutes, and laughter filled the air. It was like a scene from another era.

“Well, this is impressive,” he said, leaning down to speak into my ear, so that I could hear him over the din of the crown and the lively jazz music.

“Paul Gerard is famous for hosting fabulous parties. Looks like this one will be no exception,” I answered as he led me up the stone steps to the entry of the mansion. I nodded to the mayor on the way in.

When we got inside the massive entry hall, there was even more music, more champagne and a bigger crowd. A stage had been set up in the center of the room and four women dressed like flappers did a lively Charleston there. Mark plucked two glasses of bubbly from the tray of a passing waiter and handed one to me, as he looked around taking everything in. The Gerard mansion was the perfect setting for a party of this type, as the décor was Art Deco and quite elegant.

As with the previous event, we didn’t need to do anything other than find a place to stand. People “working the room” made their way over to us and we chatted with some new people and some from the weekend before. Our conversations always wound their way back to the mission of our practice and the difference we were making, and I had a feeling that we had impressed some important potential donors. Mark was doing a fantastic job charming people, and we made a great team. I was actually having a very good time, until I turned around and saw Caitlin bearing down on us.

“I’m glad you’re here. Come on before he sees us talking,” she said urgently, looking around the room as if she were searching for someone in the crowd.

“Who sees us? What are you talking about?” I asked, annoyed already. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? Every time I saw her these days, I pictured Mark kissing her and it made my stomach roil.

“We don’t have time,” she said, clutching onto me. I didn’t want to go anywhere with Caitlin, but she seemed so desperate, and, frankly, I wondered why.

“What exactly do you
want
Caitlin?” Mark asked, reaching down, and removing her hand from my arm.

“My grandfather was a famous painter and his last painting was stolen ten years-ago. It’s here and I need to show Beth. She’ll recognize it.”

“It’s here?” Okay,
now
I was intrigued.

“We have to go now,” she said, still searching the room frantically. I nodded to Mark to let him know I wanted to go and at least see what she was talking about.

“Okay, but we can’t be gone long,” Mark said, putting his arm around me as we followed Caitlin out of the entry hall. She seemed to know her way around, which struck me as odd. We were heading away from the party and into a private part of the house.

“Caitlin, where are we going?” I asked, starting to feel uncomfortable. My family’s home was quite impressive, but this place was amazing. It was huge and everywhere I looked I saw expensive furnishings and art. It was more like a palace than someone’s house.

“I told you, to see the painting. It’s in his private study, but we’ll have to get in from outside,” she said over her shoulder, looking around nervously as we made our way through winding hallways. Initially, we passed catering staff or servants bustling about, but eventually, there was nobody but us.

She was moving very quickly and before I even realized what she was doing, she had opened a window and climbed out! What the fuck? This was getting weirder by the moment, but I had to admit that my curiosity had really been piqued.

“No! No way, Beth,” Mark said stopping dead in his tracks.

“Mark, the painting she’s talking about is legendary. People aren’t even sure it existed. She seems very sincere, and it makes me wonder.”

“If we get caught…”

“Caught what? Climbing through a window to the
outside
of the house? Sure, we’ll look kind of nutty, but we’re not really doing anything illegal are we?”

“Oh…
fuck
!” he growled. What is it with the women in your circle? You all want me to dress up in costume and climb through windows for you.”

“I’ll make it up to you later,” I said, squeezing his hand.

“Promises, promises,” he grumbled but he followed me. Just then, Caitlin stuck her head back in.

“What’s taking you so long?” she hissed and Mark muttered something obscene in response. We got to the window and looked around quickly to make sure nobody was watching, then he helped me climb through, out onto a back porch facing the rear lawn.

“How do you know your way around Paul Gerard’s house so well?” I asked suspiciously, as Mark came through the window behind me.

“There’s no time for that now,” she answered. “He’s supposed to be making a speech soon, so he should be in the main hall, but we can’t take any chances. Come on.”

She took off, moving quickly again. It was dark out and I could just barely see her up ahead. Thankfully, there was nobody else in sight. She stopped and reached into her bag pulling something out. A moment later, a door swung open.

“Hurry,” she said quietly. Mark and I caught up and followed her into a small room that looked like it was used for storage. She went to another door, and opening it a crack, peeked through. Then she turned and signaled for us to follow. The door led to a long hallway, and Caitlin stealthily went directly to a door on the right, once again, opening it a crack and peeking inside, and then signaling for us to follow.

We entered a large room with a high ceiling. There was enough light coming in from outside to see that the walls were lined with books. Caitlin headed for a small alcove in the back of the room. It was darker in there, and I could barely see anything, but she reached into her bag again and took out a little flashlight.

“Okay,
this
is starting to feel not quite legal,” Mark said in a tense voice. “In fact, it started to feel not quite legal way back there.”

“Shh! Not so loud, Mike. We’re not going to take anything.”

She approached the back wall of the alcove and shined the light on a painting hanging there. I walked over and stared at it with fascination. It was a portrait of an elderly woman, holding an empty bowl and it was beautifully rendered. The woman’s expression was so vivid that she looked like she was made of flesh and blood. I could even see the fine blue line of a vein under her thin skin.

I examined the painting as carefully as I could from my position, the brush strokes, the color palate… It certainly looked like a Reynolds, and not just any Reynolds, but one of the best I had ever seen. This painting was a contemporary masterpiece.

“Unbelievable,” I mumbled with awe.

“See, what I mean,” Caitlin asked triumphantly. “You recognize it, don’t you?”

“It definitely looks like your grandfather’s work,” I answered. “I’ve never seen this painting before, though.”

“Nobody has but me and the people who stole it.”

“You saw it before it was stolen? You could identify it?” I asked.

“Yes. And this is it. I’m positive. I remember seeing it in his studio.”

“Maybe Paul didn’t know.” Even I didn’t believe what I was saying. How could a collector not know that a painting he owned was a missing masterpiece?

“Of course he knew, Beth! He was involved. He had to be.”

“How did you get the key to get in?” Mark asked suddenly.

“What difference does it make?” Caitlin asked. Suddenly, we heard a noise that sounded like someone talking just outside the door to the study. “We have to get out of here!”

She immediately took off for another window. Not having much choice, Mark and I followed. She opened it quickly and climbed through with us right behind her. As soon as we were on the porch, she pulled it closed and we all headed off in the dark.

Mark

Caitlin took off through the dark and Beth and I followed her. It was obvious, again, that she knew her way around more than the average party guest. When we got to the window where we had originally entered I confronted her.

“Okay, look,” I said, feeling very annoyed. “If that painting really is stolen, then your only choice is to go to the police and report it. Although, I think they’re probably going to want to know how you got a key to this place too.”

“If I go to the police something very bad could happen to me. If you guys can’t help me, I’ll just have to figure out some other way.” Then she opened the window and started to climb back through. “Are you coming or not?”

“We’ll walk around to the front, and go through the door like normal people if you don’t mind,” I said taking Beth’s hand and leading her off through the darkness.

“Mark,” Beth said when we got some distance away, “Do you think she’s right and Gerard was involved somehow with the theft?” I stopped walking and faced her. We were standing under a tree filled with lights, so I could see her expression and she looked concerned.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to know. She’s a little too familiar with the floor plan to be a stranger here, and she has a key to get into the house. Something is definitely not right with that.”

“It’s just that, the painting, it looked authentic. You have to understand, if that’s really the Reynolds, it would be like finding the Rembrandt that was stolen from the Gardiner Museum.”

“All the more reason why she should go to the cops.”

“Unless she’s really in danger if she goes to the police.”

“No good can come from us getting involved in this. We don’t even know for sure this is the right painting. You looked at it from at least five feet away by
flashlight
.”

“So, you don’t think we should do anything?”

“No, Beth, I don’t. I don’t even know if she has a legal claim she can make. Besides, I don’t think that Braden would be thrilled about us representing his nonprofit by climbing through windows with some nutty broad, who I hooked up with once.”

“I know. I know. But it’s just not right and he shouldn’t get away with it. Even though Caitlin is annoying, and an airhead, she’s not really a
bad
person. I hate to see someone steal her last memento of her grandfather. And she said she would lend it to a museum. It breaks my heart to see a painting like that locked away where nobody can take pleasure in its beauty.” She looked so earnest and something stirred inside me. I got that warm feeling again, the one that made me want to hold her all night.

“And that’s why you’re different than anyone else I’ve met, because you care so much. You care about justice, and beautiful paintings, but most of all, you care about people, even annoying people who put you in embarrassing situations.”

I looked into her eyes and I all I could think of was how much I wanted to kiss her. I couldn’t resist. She was like a drug. Our lips pressed together lightly, and then I slid my arms around her waist, grabbed that gorgeous round little bottom and pulled her closer, increasing the pressure. Just like before, she gave herself to me willingly, and it was more than just hot; it was passionate, electric and utterly intoxicating. I was getting lost in the sensation, running my hands over her body, tasting champagne on her tongue, and listening to those sexy little sounds she always makes.

The
clicking
sound registered somewhere on the edge of my consciousness and I came crashing to Earth. I pulled away and looked around but it was hard to see in the darkness surrounding us.

“I heard a camera. Fucking paparazzi,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Come on, let’s get back to the party,” she said taking my hand, and quickly led me off toward the front of the house. The band was still playing outside, and people were still milling about, laughing and talking, wandering in and out of the mansion.

We never actually made it back inside, as we kept getting stopped by people wanting to chat. Inevitably, Gerard came over to do his duty as host and say hello. I wondered how Beth would handle it, but as usual, she was the picture of grace and class.

“Beth, tell your mother that I’m looking forward to attending the Pierce Foundation event this year,” Gerard said warmly.

“If it’s half as good as this one, it should be a huge success,” she replied. Even though she was smiling, I noticed that her voice was cooler than usual.

“Well, fill me in on the details,” he said with a smile fixed on his face.

She began describing her mother’s plans for their fundraiser, but I noticed that while he nodded as if he were listening, he seemed distracted, and he kept looking at something or someone over her right shoulder. I followed his gaze but all I saw were the journalists and photographers questioning people who were leaving. Miss Flirty and Mr. Greasy were still there, and still standing next to each other. Maybe they were from the same tabloid.

“Will you be coming to my mystery weekend as well?” he asked, still seeming distracted.

“Several of us from The Justice Project will be there,” she answered, giving him a stony look.

“You’re an attorney with Braden’s practice, Mark?” Gerard asked, now paying attention to me.

“Yes, we’ve been friends since law school,” I answered.

“Well, you and Beth make a striking couple,” he commented. “Perhaps there’ll be another Pierce family celebration soon.” He patted me on the arm and Beth and I smiled politely as if everyone on their second date wanted to hear people hint about future wedding plans. No pressure.

Eventually, he moved on to other guests, and we moved back inside. We hit the buffet line, filling plates of food and finding a place to sit, where we enjoyed some lively jazz accompaniment as we ate.

“I’m sorry about the questions and the hints. I know it’s weird for reporters to ask about wedding plans when we haven’t even had sex yet,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth. Lucky grape.

“By tomorrow that won’t be an issue anymore.” Thank you God.

“Let’s finish this and get out of here,” she said, letting out a deep breath.

“Sounds good to me,” I answered enthusiastically. I had planned this night out and I was ready to rock. “When we get to your place why don’t you grab some clothes for tomorrow and change into something more comfortable.” And more easily removable, I added mentally.

“Okay,” she said giving me a look that went straight to my dick.

“When we get back to my place, I’ll change, and then we can maybe dance? I really liked dancing with you.”

“You know, for someone without a lot of dating experience, you’re doing a really good job.”

“Good. Because I want this to be a night we’ll remember. Now we need to call Louis or I’m going to re-examine my position on fundraiser trysts, and that’s probably not a great idea.”