“Maybe we can ask Aurelio,” Sam suggested. “He should know.”
“Maybe,” Jennifer agreed, but what was the point? Was she really going to buy the latest and greatest of some unknown artist, based on the opinion of Jackson Montgomery?
Sam turned back to Jackson and said, “I’ll check it out. Might be the perfect touch for my condo.”
“Why would you want a painting of water hanging on your wall?” Her place on Brickell Avenue hosted one of the most enviable views in the city. “You stare at it through your windows all day long.”
“For the nights,” she grinned, encouraging the same from Jackson. Sam spun her focus back around to him. “But enough small talk. We’ve got to hit the road.” She gave a firm pat to his shoulder and said, “Nice to see you again, Jax.”
“You too, Sam.”
Jennifer waited as Sam returned to the house. “You might want to wash your hand.”
“Nah. I’d rather his scent linger a while longer.”
“So, can I assume you two have a date?”
“Unfortunately, not.” Her eyes held a faint defeat. “He’s seeing someone.”
“Oh well, better luck next time,” Jennifer said, a strange disappointment grazing her mood. What did she care if Sam “struck out?” The woman had hordes of men, hanging in wait for her merest nod. One loss should not have the power to dampen her evening.
Nor hers.
With a swift tug of the front door, Jennifer followed Sam outside. She slipped into the passenger side of the shiny sports car and buckled herself in. Sam did likewise and ignited the car to life with a smooth thrust around the circular drive.
Unable to shut out thoughts of Jackson, she ventured, “So what did you two find so interesting a discussion?”
Sam slapped a grin on her face. “Art. The man’s a connoisseur.”
“Come now, be serious.” Jennifer dipped her face, but kept her eyes fixed on Sam. “One memorized artist name does not make one a connoisseur.”
“He knows his stuff.”
“What stuff?” She drew back. “Art?”
“Art, use of color, the implicit subtext of emotion...”
“And you’re the one to know the difference.”
“I know a little. Enough to banter back and forth with him, anyway!”
“You sure he wasn’t trying to flatter you?” she asked, bothered by the nip of jealousy she felt.
Sam laughed. “It wasn’t flattery. He’s a straight shooter, that one.” Rolling through a stop sign, she accelerated her merge onto the highway and traffic closed in around them.
“And you know this how? As far as I know, you’ve spent all of ten minutes with the man.”
“I read people for a living. I can spot the genuine deal when I see it.”
“Hmmm...”
“What do you have against him, anyway?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it the bartender thing?” Sam shot the question like an accusation.
Jennifer flipped her gaze back to Sam. “No. He’s a landscaper, remember?”
“That’s right. A service for which you’re willing to pay dearly.”
She crossed her arms. He’s also about to retire she thought, her gaze touching upon the red Ferrari cruising past them while avoiding the driver’s lecherous wink. But she said nothing. She refused to give Sam that kind of ammunition.
“I don’t get it,” Sam sailed over the pause. “He’s a nice guy, hard-working, good-looking. As far as I see it, the only thing wrong with him is that he’s unavailable.”
She swiped a glance to her side. “You want to date him, now?”
“You bet I would,” she said with a smile and a shake of her wavy hair. “Unlike you, I don’t have such restrictive criteria for my prospective mates.”
“You have no criteria.”
“Oh c’mon, of course I do,” she replied, and defiance sparked in her dark brown eyes. “But mine deals with the man inside.”
“And mine doesn’t?”
Sam waved her hand at Jennifer like she was a nuisance fly. “Don’t get all fussy with me. I’m simply suggesting you pay more attention to the outside, the career, success, than you do the inside.”
“You make me sound like a shallow gold-digger—which I’m not,” she snapped. “I have high standards and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Jennifer uncrossed her arms and resituated her position in the small leather seat. Staring out the window, traveling the highway, they were passing downtown Miami. Most buildings were tall and sleek, while others were short and sullied creating a mix of old and new, interspersed with palms and tropical foliage. Elevated about mid-level, the Metrorail wound oddly through them, like a space-train cruising through the air.
“You’re not a shallow gold-digger,” Sam said. “Obviously. You’re a successful cardiologist. The point I’m trying to make is that you wouldn’t date anyone who didn’t make as much or more money than you. You hold men to the same bullion standard as gold-digging women do, but for different reasons. If they don’t earn a good living like you do, then they’re not worth your commitment.”
Jennifer couldn’t quite deny the accusation, but she didn’t like the way it sounded. It made her assessment of men seem superficial when the truth was, she looked for a variety of traits, success being one of many.
She considered their education, their goals, both short-term and long. She contemplated their personal interests and hobbies, took into account the compatibility of their personalities and career choices.
Jennifer resented the insinuation that she was shallow. “I consider a myriad of aspects when considering a prospective husband, which is what I’m looking for in a man. To me, passing time with a man who won’t meet my goals is pointless.”
“Not everyone wants to get married, Jen. It doesn’t make for a bad person.” Sam whipped the car left, passing a bright-green VW bug ahead of them.
“No, but when you are considering the prospect of marriage,” she pushed, “economic stability is a very important quality.”
“You don’t have to be rich to be happy.”
“Similar interests and hobbies are important as well,” she continued, ignoring the comment. “When two people come from entirely different backgrounds you are setting yourself up for disappointment.”
“Jackson appreciates art, same as you and Aurelio.”
Not on the same level Jennifer felt certain, but disregarded the comparison. “Then there are the long-term goals regarding career and family to consider. The short-term goals.”
“Goals are good.”
“When you marry,” she emphasized, annoyed by the interruption, “the entire family must be considered.”
“You might like his family.”
“I’m talking about mine.” Jennifer wouldn’t do that to her mother. Her mother expected more, and more she intended to deliver. “All of this must be compatible.” She spoke as teacher to student. “Jackson may appreciate a particular artist, but I assure you he is not interested in world travel, at least not to the same destinations I would like to explore. Nor is he the type to concern himself with which private school may best suit his child, or whether he wants children at all.”
“How do you know that?” Sam fired back. “Have you ever discussed it?”
Jennifer returned a glare. “Obviously not.”
“Well then you don’t know, do you? All you have is assumption. Give him a minute of your time, and you might be surprised.”
“I doubt it,” she replied, slightly unnerved recalling their conversation from earlier today. Jackson had indeed surprised her, but only because she hadn’t expected his vision to be so flowery, so detailed...
So romantic. The images he had created, the way he spoke of a bride... She had been more than surprised—she had been drawn in, eager to learn more about him, his past...
Like his mother. She was a gardener, much like her mom. And his sister had been married in a garden, like she
was going to be. So they had a few things in common. Some interesting common ties. It was nowhere near enough to build a life upon.
“Stranger things have happened,” Sam remarked with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “All you have to do is open the door.”
Jennifer sealed her thoughts closed on the subject. Whether Sam was motivated by true belief or the spice of the battle she didn’t know, but either way she always pushed, and right now Jennifer was feeling the shove.
She wasn’t shallow. She wasn’t judgmental. She was practical; a realist. She knew what she wanted in life and had a plan to get there. Her door had already been opened and she was walking through, hand in hand, with Aurelio.
There was no need to open up another door, nor did she hold anything against a man like Jackson for living his life by the bed of a pick-up.
Did she?
And why did it matter? Despite what Sam claimed, she accepted others as they were. Granted, she may not want to marry a man like him, but it didn’t mean she looked down on his choices.
Did she?
Feeling uncomfortable in the tiny bucket seat, Jennifer hit the forward button on her mind play. This stream of thought was nonsensical. Why Jackson didn’t make a good fit was irrelevant. She had found her perfect companion and there was no need to explore other possibilities.
Case closed.
Tonight was about Aurelio, not Jackson, and she couldn’t wait to see him. This was a shining moment for her fiancé and she intended to fully support him, without distraction.
Putting the matter behind her, she noted the sign for their exit. A squiggle of nerves jumped in her belly.
Chapter Thirteen
Ten minutes later, Sam whipped her Mercedes to a tight stop in front of Illuminations, Aurelio’s gallery located on Espanola Way. Neon lettering lit up the name in a calming blue, while spotless glass walls revealed standing room only. Cast in soft shades of color by interior lighting, patrons milled among the paintings and sculptures. Judging by the size of the group, it appeared his opening was a triumphant success.
“Hot damn,” Sam exclaimed softly. “Who do we have here?”
Jennifer glanced briefly at the young valet while she applied a last touch of lipstick to her lips. Tall, slender and blonde, he looked to be all of twenty years of age.
Sam popped out of the driver’s seat as he opened her door. “Hello, gorgeous...” she rolled out in a near purr.
Must she? Jennifer sighed. She replaced the lipstick into her slim purse and rose from the vehicle as the valet held her door. Breathing in the salt-misted air, she stepped onto the sidewalk of the narrow street and mentally prepared herself for the evening ahead.
“Take care of my baby, will you?”
“Yes Ma’am,” he replied.
“I might be back for you,” Sam whispered with a merry wink, then turned to Jennifer. “Damn, if this party isn’t getting off to a good start!”
Jennifer grasped her by the arm. “Slow down, Casanova. You’re scaring the help,” she said, aware the valet’s attention traced Sam’s every move, especially her long, hose-free stride.
“I assure you, I am doing nothing of the kind.” She chuckled wicked and low. “That boy is thinking of nothing but having his way with me this very minute—you can take that to the bank.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. Probably. But tonight was about Aurelio, not Sam’s next score.
“Let’s hope Slim-Hips has invited some manly men to his opening. I’m going to need all the distraction I can get after an eyeful of that little Kiwi!”
“Maybe you should pay attention to the art,” Jennifer suggested. “You might just expand your horizons.”
Grasping hold of the silver-plated handle, Sam opened the door. “My horizons are wide enough, thank you for noticing, but I was hoping for a little fun tonight.” She stopped abruptly, as though from sudden thought. “Tell me it’s an open bar.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Yes. Rest assured your liver won’t shrivel up from inactivity.”
“Good,” she replied. “That baby needs regular exercise.”
Jennifer shook her head in mock frustration, but chuckled nonetheless as she walked inside.
South Beach played a few beats faster than most, with edgy, trendy music spiking the atmosphere with an international flair. While she was partial to Coral Gables proper, the beach provided a nice change of pace, a different flavor entirely.
Located in the heart of the art deco district, Illuminations was mere minutes from Aurelio’s high-rise home on Ocean Drive. Organized and manageable, Jennifer envied the convenience. His entire life was contained within a few blocks—almost his entire life, she corrected herself. She lived a half-hour away.
And then there was Africa. Her gaze darted around the gallery. They would be here tonight as well.
Meandering among stylishly dressed men and women clustered in small groups of quiet conversation, Jennifer smiled as young artists enthusiastically described their art, talking color and texture. Aurelio had given them the opportunity of a lifetime with this showing and all were eager to describe the finer nuance of their creations and technique.
Standing here immersed in his vision, she felt proud to be Aurelio’s fiancé. His was a generosity of spirit and one of the things she loved most about him.
“There sure are some crazy imaginations at work out there.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look at that one.” She gestured toward a painting off to their left. “It looks like paint splatter with photographs superimposed over it.”
Jennifer considered the piece. Basically, it was exactly as Sam said, but from the selection of photos it seemed to her the artist was drawing contrasts along generational lines. “It’s a statement on society.”
“How do you figure?”
She turned to address her more fully. “If you look more closely, you’ll notice each photograph represents a different era.”
“You’re reaching.”
“Art requires an extension of the mind.”
“Not all art.”
True, none of these resembled the works Jax spoke about, the water and play of light, but that’s because they were abstract, extreme.
“I prefer the play of light on water, thank you.”
Caught by the coincidence of thought, Jennifer stammered, “Well today’s young artist doesn’t dabble in simple subjects like earth and sky.” Both knew she meant water, and both knew she refused to voice as much. “They deal in imagination.”
Sam grunted, but her eyes blazed with, Caught ya.
“Sweetheart.”
Jennifer jumped.
Aurelio swept around them and said, “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”
“Aurelio...”
Sam’s eyes flashed a shameless, Yep, that’s his name.
Jennifer glared at her.
A picture of understated elegance in his brushed silk shirt of salmon, black slacks and shiny Italian loafers, Aurelio pecked a soft kiss on her cheek, giving an obligatory ditto for Sam. “Sweetheart...” He placed a gentle hand on her back. “I was beginning to get worried.”
“My fault,” Sam piped up. “I got sidetracked.”
“Yes, well...” Aurelio arched a brow. “That does seem to happen with you, doesn’t it?”
Sam shrugged, unaffected by the slight. “What can I say, I’m distracted easily,” she said, thrusting another mischievous glance toward Jennifer.
She returned one of her own. I will throttle you if you keep this up. Then returned to Aurelio and said, “The gallery is breathtaking, darling. Absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you,” he replied, instantly aglow in light of her praise. “I am thrilled.”
“Turnout’s great.”
“Yes,” he acknowledged Sam’s observation, glancing about the gallery. “The artists are very pleased. In fact, many have already registered their first sales, accepting commissions for more.”
“That’s wonderful!�
�� Jennifer exclaimed.
Aurelio linked his hand through Jennifer’s and said, “I have so many people I want you to meet.”
“You go ahead,” Sam said. “I’ll make my way around.”
“Okay.” Jennifer turned to Aurelio with a bright smile. “I’m all yours!”
Two hours later, Jennifer strolled up behind Sam. “I see you’ve found the premier artist.”
She whirled around at the familiar voice. “You call this art?” Pointing to the colorful canvas hanging from the wall before her, she suppressed a chuckle. “It looks more like a stack of party toothpicks!”
“That’s by Armando and he’s quite talented in the medium.” Jennifer shifted her glance to the drink in Sam’s hand. Shaped like a martini glass, a rainbow-colored line began at the stem and swirled up and around to the rim of the glass, inside of which a liquid the color of ripe melon shimmered. Definitely not her standard martini. “What is that?”
Sam turned back to examine the work. “A Cosmopolitan.”
“I repeat, what is that?” No expert on liquor, Jennifer preferred wine, and held a large-bowled glass of Cabernet.
“I don’t remember exactly, but it’s downright tasty.” She turned and extended the glass in hand. “Would you like to try it?”
“No, thank you.”
Sam shrugged. “It’s good.” She brought the drink to her lips for a small sip.
“Any luck with the bartender?” Jennifer asked with a playful wink.
“You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?” Sam donned a victorious smile. “You missed out on Jackson, but you see the potential now, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but bait. “I see the fire steaming behind those otherwise cool, baby-blues. You want him, don’t you? Your hunky yard boy...”
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