Читать книгу One Summer In New York - Trish Wylie - Страница 15
ОглавлениеIT WAS THE dead of night, but Holly could still hear New York outside the bedroom window. Cars drove by. A dog barked. People laughed boisterously on the street.
The city that never slept.
Lying in Ethan’s bed, with her head sinking into his soft pillows, she could hardly make sense of the day. Visiting Soho galleries, buying all those art supplies, a new wardrobe, a diamond ring... Then that dinner in Chinatown.
She’d lived a lifetime in the last twenty-four hours.
Ethan was just beyond the door in the living room. Was he sleeping? Was he working? Or was he lying awake thinking about her as she was of him?
Of course not, Holly reminded herself. Ethan Benton had more important things on his mind then his wife for hire. She’d better remember that.
But when they’d watched each other’s faces at the restaurant it had seemed as if maybe she would, in fact, linger in his thoughts and keep him up at night. He’d looked at her as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. The restaurant might have been crowded and clamoring, but he’d never taken his eyes off her.
Through most of the evening they would have convinced anyone they were an engaged couple. Finishing each other’s sentences... Digging their chopsticks into each other’s plates...
And then there had been those awkward moments when they’d asked each other questions neither was ready to answer.
Holly hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell Ethan that she had been married. She feared he would think of her as a used product and not want to go through with their agreement. He didn’t need to know about her mistake in marrying someone who hadn’t loved her for who she was. Who hadn’t supported the person she wanted to become. Ricky Dowd wasn’t a name that ever needed to come up in conversation.
They would go through with their pretend engagement so that Ethan could protect his aunt as her health declined. And, as he’d said, either they would continue to meet for official occasions or eventually call off their deal. Whatever happened, Ethan would never have to know about Holly’s wasted time on wrong decisions that tonight seemed like a million years ago.
Just as she might not find out what he was hiding because he didn’t want to tell her what had caused him the most hurt in his life. It had to be something terrible, because both times when he’d avoided the topic his eyes had turned to coal.
But the rest of the evening was a dream she never wanted to wake from. When they had got to unimportant questions, like favorite movies and television shows, they’d laughed themselves dizzy remembering jokes from silly comedies. Laughed some more about bad childhood haircuts and mean teachers they’d hated in school.
They had stayed long after the restaurant had emptied, until the staff had been ready to leave. Feng had walked them out to the street and waved them goodbye as they’d tucked themselves into the car so Leonard could deposit them home.
Holly drifted off to sleep, replaying over and over again how Ethan had gently kissed the back of her hand and thanked her for an unforgettable day before he closed the bedroom door.
* * *
In the morning, Ethan scrutinized his unshaven face in the bathroom mirror. He hadn’t laughed as much as he had last night in a long time. Truth be told, he couldn’t remember ever laughing that much. Everything was full power with Holly. Near her, he felt alive with a liquid fire.
That might burn down his life as he knew it.
After showering and dressing, he charted a direct route into the kitchen toward the coffeepot.
“Morning,” she greeted him.
“Yes.”
He was careful not to touch her as he crossed behind her in the tiny kitchen to pour a cup. It took stupendous will not to reach for her, to put his arms around her waist and find out what her hair might smell like if his face was buried in it.
Instead, more guarding and defending.
He gained distance by busying himself with checking the morning’s urgencies on his tablet. His approval was needed on important architectural specifications for the Jersey City project. An email chain between several of the interested parties provided updates. Thank heavens for work. He needed the interruption from his growing and wholly off-track desires for more than what he’d signed up for with Holly.
Despite his efforts, his eyes of their own volition kept darting upward from the screen as he watched her lay out a light breakfast of toast and juice.
“Right, then, we have an important day,” he directed as soon as they’d sat down with their food. “Aunt Louise and Fernando will arrive at six o’clock. She does not like to stay out late in the evening. We should have dinner on the table by seven.”
“I made a shopping list,” Holly reported. “I’ll go to the store, then get the pot roast into the slow cooker.”
“I have several meetings today. Can you manage the shopping on your own?”
She snickered. “I’ve been doing the grocery shopping since I was seven years old. I think I can handle a New York City supermarket.”
“I am the one who would have trouble.”
“But after that I’ll need you for the painting. I have the canvas size I want. And I’ll use acrylic so it will dry quickly. We’ll hang it later this afternoon, and no one will be any the wiser that I only painted it today.”
With a busy day ahead, he’d selectively forgotten that he had agreed to her doing a painting of him. He had no time for posing. Although a painting by her would be a very eye-catching and convincing symbol that they were really a couple.
Plus, it would put him in proximity with her from midday. Which he had to admit he’d be looking forward to.
He mentally reprimanded himself for that thought.
In front of the building, Ethan watched Holly walk down the block while Leonard held the car door open for him. Her glossy hair swung to and fro. It was another gloomy day, but dry at the moment. Her jeans and that black leather jacket she seemed to favor would be sufficient for her shopping trip. Why he was concerned with how she was dressed for the weather was baffling. And disturbing.
But what would a Florida girl know about winter? She might catch cold...
Leonard ferried him from one appointment to the next. The low-income housing project in the Bronx was behind schedule and over budget. He pored over blueprints with the architect until they found a way to enlarge the kitchens for the exterior-facing units. The architect was feuding with the contractor over the selection of materials, but that always seemed to be the case. Ethan was able to smooth some ruffled feathers.
He stopped at the hotel where the shareholders’ gala would be held on Saturday. Gave his authorization for the layout of the ballroom. Visualizing the room full of formally dressed people, he could picture them raising their champagne glasses as Aunt Louise offered a toast to him and Holly. His bride-to-be would charm the crowd with her engaging smile and shimmering gown...
In the silence of the empty ballroom, Ethan’s heart pleaded for something he couldn’t fully grasp. A dull ache thudded in the center of his chest.
Swiftly shoving those confusing feelings aside, he hurried out through the hotel doors to Leonard’s car and his next meeting.
The multi-use development in Chelsea had come a long way since he’d last seen it. As he strode through he offered dozens of hellos to the many workers laboring on the project’s five buildings. It was for this large venture that he’d offered Holly the commission to do the artwork. The opportunity that had sealed the negotiations for her to agree to pose as his fiancée.
Ethan’s interior designer had been intrigued to hear about the up-and-coming artist from Florida he had brought onto the job. He had provided Stella with Holly’s website address.
Midday, he returned to the apartment. Holly must not have had any trouble with the slow cooker, because the aroma of cooking meat practically had him salivating.
“My, my...” he said as he removed his coat and hung it on the rack.
The open area by the living room window had been turned into a temporary artist’s studio.
“I’ve been working.”
“I can see.”
The easel they had bought yesterday was unpacked and in use. A side table with a tarp thrown over it for protection had become a paint station. Another tarp covered the area’s floor.
“What have you done with my apartment?”
“Hey, I thought it was my apartment.”
“Tonight it will be our apartment.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll clean it all up after I do the painting of you.”
“What do we have here?”
Three pastel drawings on paper lay on the floor. Moving vehicles was their theme. One was a bright yellow taxi done in abstracted horizontal lines that made it look as if it was in motion. Ditto for a blue city bus motoring along. And likewise for a silver train car that appeared to be whizzing by.
“I was working out some ideas. Will there be a valet and transportation station at the Chelsea development?”
Of course. He nodded with immediate understanding. Paintings like this would be stylish and hip, and convey the movement of the city. They’d be perfect. Even if their marriage arrangement proved to be the wrong move, Ethan was at least sure he’d hired an artist who would produce what he needed for the multi-million-dollar project.
“Excellent.”
“We’d better not waste any time. When can you be ready to sit for me?”
A grin tried to crack at his mouth. “Let me just wash up. Dinner smells delicious.”
Minutes later, he stepped onto the tarp of her studio area.
“I am ready for you,” he said bravely, with arms outstretched.
In reality, he didn’t know what to expect. Was not at all comfortable with how Holly might portray him. He reminded himself that this was ultimately for the good of Aunt Louise. He could put up with a little uneasiness for the sake of her wellbeing.
“I’ll have you sitting on the stool.” Holly, all business, gestured for him to take his place.
She studied him intently. Backed away to get one perspective. Inched to the side for another. Then came in close. So close he could feel the heat of her body, which made him want to do anything but sit still.
“What are you deciding on?”
“The perspective. I think I’ll do it at an angle that’s a partial profile.”
“Will it be only my face?”
She ran a finger across his upper chest from shoulder to shoulder to illustrate the cut-off point. Blood pumped double-time to every inch of him she touched. He instinctively leaned away.
“Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”
His voice came out a jagged growl. “It was not you I was worried about.”
She smiled quizzically for several beats. His chest muscles continued to vibrate from her touch.
It occurred to him that for all the questions they’d asked each other about favorite things and childhood memories, they hadn’t talked about past relationships.
Had a man broken her heart? Had she broken someone’s? Was she looking for love?
Did she wonder about him?
Love wasn’t on the bargaining table in their business deal. He’d never loved. Didn’t love. Wouldn’t love. That was a contract signed a long time ago.
Holly programmed some upbeat music into her phone and began. She wanted to do a preliminary pencil drawing on paper, and when she was satisfied with that move on to paint and canvas.
With a last adjustment to his angle, she requested, “Try not to move.”
“Do I need to be silent?”
“I’ll let you know when I’m sketching your mouth. Just keep your head still when you talk.”
With his face turned toward the window, it was odd to feel her eyes on him when he couldn’t see her face. Odd, but spine-tingling. And erotic. He wished he could rip off his clothes and have her paint him in the nude.
Holly made him want to let go of the well-bred and well-mannered businessman he was. With her, he wanted to howl naked under the moonlight. And to ravage her with the savage passion he kept tightly caged inside him.
“Can you soften your facial expression?” she asked, making him realize that he was not masking his arousal.
He neutralized his jaw.
“Tell me about your morning,” she coaxed.
He appreciated her trying to help him relax. “There are ongoing issues with my housing development in the Bronx. I want to build the maximum number of comfortable units on the property to give as many families as possible a home of their own.”
“What are the problems?”
“Materials are costly. I have shareholders to answer to. And Aunt Louise. I promised this as a break-even project—not one on which the company would lose a lot of money. I may have to move it into the category of charitable endeavor. I will have to present it accordingly. Tricky.”
“Here, take a look.” Holly unclipped from the easel the large piece of paper she’d been using for her sketch and held it up in front of her for him to see.
After preparing himself to hate it, he saw that it wasn’t bad at all. She’d used those same short lines she had on the transportation drawings. Together, the strokes formed the likeness of a pensive man looking into the distance.
Holly’s face was flushed. She was nervously waiting for his reaction.
With a voice tight and caught, she squeaked, “What do you think?”
“Is this how I look?”
“Well, obviously you’re handsome. I hoped I could convey your seriousness, too.”
She’d said “handsome” as matter-of-factly as it would have been to say he was wearing a white shirt. He liked it that she thought he was handsome.
“I suppose I am serious.”
“That feels like your core. You’re formal. You’re measured.”
“Whereas you just say or do anything that comes into your mind.”
“And you don’t seem like someone who ever loses control.”
Oh, if she only knew the thoughts he was having about grabbing her and showing her exactly how out of control he could be.
She was uncovering wild ideas in him. Holly, with her mesmerizing black hair and sinewy limbs. He’d stripped open more of his true self to her in the last two days than he had with anyone in his life. Not all his secrets, but he’d revealed a lot.
And he must rein that in right now. She only needed to know what was relevant to their phony engagement. Nothing more.
He stood up from his stool to stretch and take a break. Checked messages on his phone. Fired off a couple of texts.
Using a sketchpad, Holly quickly drew more versions of his mouth until she was satisfied. Then showed him the one that she liked.
“Interesting... It looks as if it is easy enough for you to make a small correction here and there and come out with a quite different result.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so. Trial and error.”
“I would not have a clue how to do that.”
“I’ll show you sometime.”
“I would like that.”
How absurd this was—letting someone sketch his mouth. In the middle of a workday. When he had a thousand other things on his mind.
But he didn’t care. Inexplicably, he wanted to be near Holly. She’d definitely cast a spell on him.
She lifted a large canvas onto her easel and adjusted the height. Then picked out her first brush.
“I’m ready to paint. Let’s begin.”
* * *
“Holly Motta, this is my aunt, Louise Benton.” Ethan made the introduction as soon as he’d ushered in the visitors.
With a welcoming smile Holly shook the older lady’s hand. “I’m happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And I so little about you...” Louise assessed her. “How pretty you are, dear.”
“I’d say the same about you. Let Ethan take your coat.”
Holly reminded herself to stay focused in spite of her nerves. At this moment her end of the contract had come due. Louise had to be convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only was she Ethan’s true love, but that he had made the right choice in her.
As Ethan helped his aunt to remove her coat Louise almost lost her balance. A telltale sign of her medical condition. How difficult living with a chronic problem like that must be. Still, Louise had style despite her petite and frail frame. A sheet of thin white hair curled under at her shoulders...her simple dark green dress was the picture of good taste.
She was the type of accomplished woman Holly looked up to. Holly was glad she had chosen to wear the black trousers and gray blouse from the new clothes Ethan had bought her. Even though it was dinner at home, these were not people who dined in jeans.
“Such an unusual silver necklace...” Holly initiated conversation.
Louise looked to Ethan. “Yes, my dear nephew brought it back from...remind me where it was from?”
“Turkey.”
“Yes, Istanbul. Ethan always brings me unique trinkets from his travels.”
With Louise’s head turned toward Ethan, Holly noticed the large bruise across her cheekbone. That must have been from the fall Ethan had said she’d taken last week. Holly understood his wish to shield his aunt from the public eye, with her decline so visible.
“Huh...low...oh...” Louise’s husband, Fernando, finally insisted on being acknowledged. Ethan hadn’t yet taken his coat, and nor had an introduction been made.
“Yes, Fernando Layne—meet my fiancée, Holly Motta.”
“Charmed,” Fernando replied, without extending his hand.
“Nice to meet you.” Holly rocked back on her heels, unsure how to move on if they weren’t going to shake hands.
“Are we having cocktails?” Fernando flung his coat to Ethan.
“Let me mix you something,” Ethan offered.
“I know where the drinks are.” Fernando rebuffed him and headed to the liquor cabinet.
Ethan had told Holly it was Fernando who had bought this apartment. On behalf of Benton Worldwide and with the company’s money, of course. And that he made frequent shopping trips to New York.
Forty-five years old trying to look twenty-five, judging from his slicked-back hair and skinny pants. No doubt Fernando preferred chic New York to less flashy Boston, although Holly couldn’t say for sure having never been there. But in an instant she knew that she wouldn’t trust Fernando if her life depended on it.
“Louise.” Fernando presented his wife with a glass of brown liquor.
She refused. “You know I’m not drinking with the new medications,” she said.
“A sparkling water, then.” He took the glass and drank it in one tip, then scurried back to the bar to pour Louise some water. Not asking if Holly and Ethan wanted anything.
Fernando’s eye caught the painting of Ethan, now on the wall where those impersonal black and white photos had been. “You two have certainly settled in.”
Holly bit her lip. If he only knew. About her barging in on Ethan just two days ago... That this apartment Fernando thought was his had become part of Ethan and Holly’s agreement... How no one in this room knew that her feelings for Ethan were becoming closer to real rather than the masquerade they were meant to be...
“Did you do this, my dear?” Louise moved toward the painting to take a closer look.
It had turned out well, especially for only an afternoon’s work. It was all done in blue—a tribute to the paint color she’d had on her face and hands when she had first rushed into this apartment, expecting it to be empty.
She’d probably had more fun than she should have painting Ethan. What an impressive subject he was. With his upright posture. Finely chiseled jaw. The deep, deep eyes with just a hint of crinkle at the outer corners. And his mouth! That mouth! No wonder it had taken her a few sketches until she got it right. Lips not so full as to be feminine. Lips she longed to explore with her own, not with her paintbrush...
“The first of many to come, I hope.” Holly slipped her arm through Ethan’s in a way she thought a fiancée in love might. His muscles jumped, but at least he didn’t bristle and pull away. “Ethan’s not keen on sitting for me.”
“He never was,” Louise agreed. “Didn’t we have to bribe you with sweets in order to get you to stay still for those Christmas portraits every year?”
“I told Holly about that crotchety old painter who smelled of pipe tobacco. She is lucky I was not scarred for life.”
Conversational banter. Check. This couldn’t be going better.
“I see you captured that distinctive curl of hair over Ethan’s forehead,” Louise noted.
That curl had captured Holly—not the other way around. The magnificent way his wavy hair spilled over in front. Just a little bit. Just enough...
It was the one thing that wasn’t completely tamed and restrained about Ethan. Somehow that curl hinted at the fiery, emotional man she knew lay beneath the custom-made suits and the multi-million-dollar deals.
“I certainly never learned how to paint or draw,” Ethan said, with a convincingly proud smile of approval at his fiancée’s handiwork.
While they chatted about the painting Fernando moseyed over to Ethan’s desk. Out of the corner of her eye, Holly saw him snooping at the papers on top of it.
Fernando was making himself a bit too much at home. Funny that Holly felt territorial after only two days. She knew that Fernando used this apartment frequently. But he didn’t keep any of his personal possessions here because other employees and associates of Benton Worldwide also used it when they were in New York.
Still, she didn’t think Fernando had the right to be looking at anything Ethan might have put down on the desk. But it wasn’t her place to say anything.
“Louise, would you like to sit down at the table?” Holly suggested.
She took Louise’s elbow and guided her toward the dining area. Ethan and Fernando followed suit behind them.
Holly overheard Fernando hiss to Ethan, “I know what you’re up to. You’ve found a wife so that Louise will retire and you can take over. If you think I’m going to spend the rest of her life getting sunburned on a boring island, you’ve got another think coming.”
