Mostly Perfect

by Heather B. Moore

  As they walked to the museum entrance, Nick said, “Did I tell you that you look beautiful?”

  Lauren flashed him a smile. “I don’t remember.”

  He stopped and pulled her against him, locking her in his arms.

  She laughed and pushed against chest. “Okay, I remember, and yes, you did tell me. Thank you.” Then she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You need to behave, Mr. Matthews.”

  She drew away, and he groaned, which only made her laugh again. They reached the entrance, holding hands again, and Nick paid for their admission into the museum.

  They spent the next hour walking through the exhibits, learning about the history of musical instruments and everything from manufacturing the instruments to distribution and marketing. It seemed that Nick was well familiar with the place, but he gave Lauren time to soak everything in.

  When they stopped at the innovation station, where patrons could play musical instruments for themselves, Nick pulled out a stool by a set of guitars. “Have a seat.”

  She sat, and he took his place on the opposite stool, then picked up one of the guitars.

  “Don’t tell me you play,” she said.

  He flashed a smile. “A little. You know, high school stuff like every wannabe kid.”

  But when he picked out a tune, Lauren was mesmerized. He was much better than a wannabe high school kid. “Is there anything you can’t do, Nicholas Matthews?”

  He lifted his gaze from the guitar. “I can’t paint.”

  She smirked. “So there’s one thing you can’t do.”

  “Here,” he said, rising to his feet and crossing to her. He set the guitar in her hands. “It’s not hard.” He helped her get her fingers in the right position. Then he guided her hands until she was playing a series of repetitive chords.

  After she got the hang of the short melody, he sat on the stool across from her and folded his arms, a smile on his face. “Sounds great. The museum might hire you for demos.”

  “Funny,” Lauren said, although she was enjoying playing what Nick had taught her. “My fingers are getting a workout.” She lifted her left hand and looked at the indentations on the pads of her fingers.

  “I think you’ll live.” Nick was on his feet again, and he took her hand in his and kissed each fingertip.

  Lauren’s skin buzzed. The museum wasn’t crowded, but they were definitely in public. “You’re not what I expected,” she said in a quiet voice.

  His hazel eyes scanned her face. “What did you expect?”

  She pulled her hand from his and set the guitar back in its place, where they’d found it. She felt Nick watching her, and when she turned, he was still waiting.

  She kept her voice low as another couple arrived at the innovation center. “I don’t want to make your head too big.”

  One of his brows lifted. “I think I can handle it.”

  “Come on,” she said, grasping his hand, liking how it was becoming so easy to touch him. And how natural and comfortable it felt. He let her lead him out of the museum.

  He also let her lead him to the car, but when he opened her door, he slid his arm around her waist. “I want to know what you expected.”

  She lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Why did he have to be so good-looking? He definitely had more than his fair share of everything the world had to offer. “Well . . . when I first saw you and what you were wearing and your whole demeanor, I knew you were one of those wealthy guys. And I guess I assumed that you fit the usual profile.”

  “Like what . . . ?”

  “You know, full of your own self-importance. Basically, a jerk.”

  “Ouch.” He moved his other hand to her waist so he was holding her in a loose embrace. “You know, having money doesn’t automatically make someone a jerk.”

  She gave a small nod. “But instead, you were thoughtful and noticed the small things around you. Which I should have guessed when you offered to share your taxi when we first met at the airport. And then other stuff, like this museum.”

  His gaze was completely focused on her. “Maybe I’m just making excuses to be with you.”

  She rested her hands on his biceps. “You’ve negotiated with my grandmother in her favor.”

  “I’m not a business tyrant,” he said with a wink. “At least not most of the time.”

  “You put me up when Kevin was being a creep,” she said.

  “He’s still a creep,” Nick said, an edge to his voice.

  “And you like my art; at least, you act like it.”

  Nick leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I love your art.”

  She smiled as he pressed a kiss against her thrumming skin. She ran her fingers over the scruff of his jaw as he lingered. The butterflies in her stomach refused to calm down. “Maybe next time I can give you a discount.”

  He chuckled.

  “Okay, Romeo, we’re making a scene,” she said as another car turned into the parking lot. She reluctantly moved away from him and slid into her seat.

  As Nick walked around the front of the car, Lauren pulled out her cell phone and texted her sister Sofia. You were right. I’m in trouble. Aka Nick Matthews.

  Strands of white lights twinkled around the topiary trees at the entrance of the gala event. Soft music floated out of the building as Nick grasped Lauren’s hand while they walked through the entrance together. He hadn’t told her that Chelsey would be here, but Lauren would likely find out soon enough. There’d never been anything between him and Chelsey, and Nick was quite sure she wasn’t as brokenhearted as their mothers seemed to think.

  Lauren wouldn’t have to worry in the least, because Nick was feeling things for her he hadn’t felt for any other woman. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment that he’d started to look at Lauren as someone other than a beautiful and interesting woman—which she still was, but now he wanted this date to be the first of many, and the first of many things.

  But knowing that Lauren had never allowed herself to be in a serious relationship, one with a future in mind, told Nick that he’d have to take things at her pace. No matter how involved his heart already was.

  “Nicholas!” a woman called out.

  The voice could be none other than his mother’s.

  Nick turned toward the adjoining hallway, and sure enough, there was his mother. With her expertly coiffed dark hair that would never see a day of gray to her long, shimmery silver gown, along with her dripping diamonds, she was the epitome of a woman who loved to wear her wealth.

  “Mother,” he said, crossing to her, still holding Lauren’s hand.

  He released Lauren to kiss his mother’s cheek, and she gave him a tight-lipped smile.

  “Did you bring her?” she asked under her breath.

  “If you’re referring to Lauren Ambrose, yes, I’d like to introduce you.” Nick turned to Lauren, who was right next to him, hearing everything. “Lauren, this is my mother, Penny Matthews.”

  His mother held out her hand, and Lauren shook it.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Matthews,” Lauren said.

  “Oh, call me Penny,” she said. “Mrs. sounds so formal and stuffy.”

  Nick wanted to laugh, because his mother was precisely that.

  “Well, I wish I had time to get to know you, Lauren, but I’ve a gala to run,” she said, her gaze effectively dismissing Lauren, then cutting to Nick with a we’ll talk later expression.

  As his mother waltzed away to greet more arrivals, Nick took hold of Lauren’s hand again. “Sorry about that,” he said in a quiet voice.

  Lauren gave him a small smile. “You did warn me.”

  “Yeah, but that still doesn’t excuse her rudeness.”

  “She loves her son and is protective.”

  “Did you really just say that?” Nick asked, his lips twisting in amusement. “I mean, that’s an even worse excuse.”

  Lauren moved slightly closer to him. “It’s not true?”

  “I suppose it’s true,” he said, lo
oking into her blue eyes. “But she more likely has her own agenda.”

  “Like Chelsey.”

  Nick was surprised, but maybe he shouldn’t be. “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “I’m an observant person,” Lauren said with a smirk. “Remember, I have the artist’s eye. I’m pretty sure the blond woman staring you down is Chelsey.”

  Nick could almost feel the shift in the air as he turned to see whom Lauren was talking about. It had to be Chelsey. And he was right.

  Chelsey’s cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes a little too bright, which probably meant she’d already gotten hold of the champagne. Nick could safely bet that the champagne flute in her hand was not her first of the night, no matter how early it was. She wobbled on her stilettos but caught her balance before stumbling into the group of people she was passing.

  “Nick, darling,” she crooned.

  Now, Nick knew Chelsey used endearments without any real meaning. He just hoped that Lauren wouldn’t get offended.

  “Chelsey,” Nick said. “Nice to see you.”

  She grinned as she continued walking right up to him. Then she leaned in for a kiss, on the mouth. Nick dodged the kiss and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

  Chelsey drew back and pushed her lips into a pout. “Baby, you’re not happy to see me?”

  “Chelsey,” Nick cut in. “This is Lauren. My date.”

  Chelsey took some effort to swing her gaze over to Lauren. Chelsey also made no secret of scanning Lauren from head to toe. “She’s pretty. Where’d you find her?”

  Nick grimaced, and as the waiter walked past with a tray of champagne, Nick took the glass from Chelsey’s hand and set it on the tray.

  “Wait, that was mine,” Chelsey said.

  “I didn’t want you to drop it,” Nick deadpanned as she swayed on her feet.

  “Oh, good idea,” she said. “I am feeling a little dizzy.”

  “Here, why don’t you sit down?” He grasped her arm and led her to a chair in the corner of the lobby. Before he could release her, she tried to pull him down with her.

  Nick drew back firmly, but he still had to pry one of her hands from his arm. “You sit here until you feel better.”

  “Where are you going?” Chelsey said, her eyes glistening with . . . tears? Oh boy.

  “I’m taking my date into the gala so we can bid on some items.”

  “Oh,” Chelsey said, biting her lip, then sighing. “She seems nice. Is she nice?”

  Nick couldn’t imagine what Lauren thought of all of this. “Yes, she’s nice. I’ll see you a little later on.”

  “Okay,” Chelsey said, closing her eyes.

  Nick stepped away, then turned to find Lauren.

  She was waiting where he’d left her. She stood with her arms folded, looking decidedly uncomfortable, and Nick didn’t blame her. Out of the two women she’d met, one had been rude and dismissive, the other drunk.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  Both of them watched Nick’s mom walk over to Chelsey and try to help her to her feet.

  Lauren narrowed her eyes. Before she could say anything, Nick said, “I’m going to bid on a few things, and then we can get out of here. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “Is Chelsey normally like this?” Lauren asked.

  “Not so early in the evening,” Nick said. “But she definitely likes to party. Come on.” He grasped her hand.

  They walked into the banquet room, and together they browsed through silent-auction items. “Do you see anything you like?” Nick asked.

  “Not really,” Lauren said. “I’m not much of a stuff collector.” She paused by an offer of music lessons by a violin master. “And I think I’m too old to take violin.”

  Nick stepped closer to her, appreciating her wildflower scent. “It’s never too late to follow your dreams.”

  “Ha.” Lauren didn’t seem to mind his nearness. “I don’t think being a musician has ever been my dream, although I do enjoy playing.”

  He slid his other hand to her waist, appreciating the soft fabric of her dress. “So, what is your dream, Lauren Ambrose?”

  “To have my art at the Metropolitan Museum.”

  Nick stilled. “Which one?”

  “New York, of course.”

  He felt a smile grow within him. “My father’s cousin is the curator.”

  Lauren spun around to face him, her blue eyes stunned. “No.”

  He chuckled. “Yes.”

  “Wow.” She stared at him for a moment, and he waited for her to ask . . .

  But she didn’t ask. “That’s a coincidence.”

  Nick leaned down. “Definitely.”

  She pursed her lips, her eyes shining, and she tugged his hand to another display. “The Greek Island Spa Giveaway. The one thing you should never live without.”

  “Want it?” Nick said in a quiet voice.

  “The starting bid is twenty thousand.”

  Nick shrugged. “Do you want it?”

  She turned to look up at him. “You’re a nut. Besides, I can totally live without a Greek Island Spa Getaway. I’ve been surviving fine for thirty years.”

  Nick considered her. “What couldn’t you live without, Lauren Ambrose?”

  She didn’t answer at first but led him to the next display. A Hawaii vacation for two. “Um, I’m not sure I should say. You’d probably think I’m nuts.”

  “Tell me,” Nick urged. He simply wanted to know as much about her as he could.

  “So, I’m a pretty frugal person, but there’s one splurge I made a few years ago.”

  Nick waited, watching and loving the soft smile on her face.

  “I bought a Renoir painting,” she said.

  Nick blinked. He wasn’t an expert on the price of art, but he was pretty sure a Renoir piece would be hundreds of thousands of dollars. “Which one?” Again, he didn’t know if he’d recognize the name, but he was curious.

  She pulled out her cell phone and opened her photo app, then showed him a picture of a painting of roses. “Roses dans un vase de fleurs,” she said.

  “Wow,” Nick said. “Where do you keep it?”

  “In a safe place that’s not easily accessible.”

  He raised his brows. “Not your condo, I hope.”

  “No.” She moved closer, which he didn’t mind at all. “It’s in the locked safe of the gallery. I look at it from time to time; otherwise, the picture on my phone will have to do.”

  “Maybe you should make a replica,” he suggested.

  At Lauren’s furrowed brow, he knew he’d suggested wrong.

  “Renoir could never be duplicated,” she said. “And to try to do so would be wrong.”

  Nick nodded. “I get that. I mean, you could never be duplicated either.”

  She smirked, and he leaned down and kissed her right beneath her earlobe.

  “Have we been here long enough?” he whispered.

  Lauren rested a hand against his chest, which only sent his heart into overdrive. “Ask your mother if it’s okay to go, and then we’ll head out.”

  Nick groaned, and Lauren smiled.

  “I don’t want her hating me more than she already does,” Lauren said. “She might think I’m dragging you away.”

  “She doesn’t hate you,” Nick said. “She’s a very self-involved woman, and she doesn’t always see beyond the surface of other people.”

  “Speaking of . . .”

  Nick turned to see Chelsey walking toward them, a sloppy smile on her face. Oh no.

  “There you are, Nicky boy,” Chelsey said, stopping next to him, and nearly tipping against him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “You should really sit down,” Nick said. “You don’t look so well.”

  Chelsey patted her hair, then ran a hand over her face. “What’s wrong? Is my mascara smeared?”

  Nick had no words.

  “Here you are,” Lauren said, guiding Chelsey with a firm grip past the auction table to the n
earest gala table. “This is your place, and you shouldn’t move until Nick tells you to.”

  Chelsey’s eyes rounded as she sat on one of the banquet chairs. “Oh, okay. Who are you?”

  “I’m Lauren,” she said simply. “Remember to stay here. It’s very important.”

  Chelsey gave an enthusiastic nod.

  Lauren returned to Nick’s side. “Maybe we should skip out early.”

  The gala room was becoming more crowded, and people milled about, signing up for the silent auction, and Nick was dreading the rest of the evening with a drunk Chelsey and a hostile mother. “Sounds good to me. Let’s stop by the pledge table first, and then I think we can escape through a side door without my mom noticing.”

  “Your mom noticing what?” a woman said, startling them both.

  Nick gritted his teeth, then put on a smile and turned. “Hi, Mom. I was going to make a cash donation, because I’m not interested in any of the auction items.”

  His mother covered up her cool look with a smile. “That would be fine, dear. Did you see Chelsey sitting by herself? You should go talk to her.”

  His mom completely ignored Lauren, and it bothered Nick to no end.

  He lowered his voice. “Chelsey’s drunk. She needs to sleep it off. And like I said, Lauren’s my date tonight.”

  His mother lifted her chin. “You’re in a snippy mood tonight.”

  It took all of his willpower not to respond to her accusation. “I’ll see you later,” he said in a calm tone. “I’m headed to the pledge table now.”

  His mother’s gaze appraised him and only him. “Don’t be stingy like your father.”

  Nick was out of patience. He grasped Lauren’s hand and drew her with him to the pledge table. He signed his name to a $5,000 pledge, then turned to Lauren. “Let’s go.”

  Lauren fought to keep her heart rate calm as she followed Nick out of the building. It was clear he was upset with his mother, and she didn’t blame him. As for herself, Lauren had decided not to take the woman’s insults personally. There was a reason Lauren kept mostly to herself and stayed away from people who thought they could buy their way into anything and bully anyone in the process.