He remembered being frustrated that something so simple had eluded him. He would have left the disaster to cool before tossing it. Natalie must have taken it instead.
“What are you—” Her expression turned rueful as she wrinkled her nose. “Yes, I have to confess to taking that. But you were going to throw it out and I thought it was beautiful the way it was. I didn’t think you’d mind. Oh, I asked Atsuko first and she said it was fine.”
“I don’t mind, but why that one?” He had a storeroom full of pieces. She could have any of them.
She looked at him. “Seriously? That’s your question. Hmm, let me think. Because I don’t have three hundred thousand dollars to buy one of your quote real unquote pieces.”
“I’d be happy to give you one. All you have to do is ask. You could pick whatever you’d like.”
She didn’t look the least bit impressed by his offer. “No. I appreciate it, but no. I’d be too tempted to sell it and finance myself for the next sixteen or seventeen years and it would be wrong to sell anything a friend gave me, so I would be torn and I don’t need that kind of negative energy in my life.”
She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known. He found himself wanting to offer her half his storeroom to sell and live off of, or keep—whatever she wanted. He had a ridiculous urge to create a grant and secretly fund her artwork.
He looked at her brightly colored apartment. Earlier, when he’d used the bathroom, he’d noticed that she’d made the master bedroom her art studio and that she slept in the smaller bedroom. She struggled financially every single day. Not that she was starving but he would bet there were months when it was tough to pay all the bills. And yes, she could work more hours and have a little extra cash in her wallet, but that would mean giving up her art, and with Natalie creating, the world was a much more wonderful place.
She passed him cartons. They both loaded their plates and began to eat. They talked about what was happening in town and who might have won the Latice tournament. When they were done, Ronan poured them more wine.
“I’d like to stay,” he told her. “Tonight. If that’s all right.”
She studied him for a second. Emotions flashed through her eyes. He had no idea what she was thinking but the little curve at the corner of her mouth told him it probably wasn’t bad.
Anticipation slammed into him as he again imagined her on top. Natalie was surprisingly uninhibited in bed—or maybe not. She did pretty much everything with total abandon—why not sex?
“We should probably talk about the elephant in the room, then,” she said.
The... “What elephant?” One second too late, he thought of the baby app and nearly came out of his chair.
“You’ll want ground rules. You don’t want them in your art, but when it comes to your personal life, you like things tidy.”
“How did you know that?” he asked, wondering if he sounded as relieved as he felt. As for the rules, he never much thought about it, but she was right.
“I see things.” She picked up her wineglass. “I vote for fun without anything getting too serious. You can’t lie to me and you can’t cheat, and when it’s done, just tell me.”
“Yes, and the same from you.”
She laughed. “I’ve never cheated.”
“I haven’t, either.”
“But you’ve broken up with women before. I’ve never done that.”
He grinned. “You’ve probably never dated a woman.”
The laugh returned. “Good point. Oh, and it’s okay with me if we don’t tell anyone.”
That surprised him. “You don’t want anyone to know?”
“I’m fine with people knowing. You’re the one who keeps your personal life private.”
Before he could react to that particular truth, she stood, pulled off her T-shirt and her bra, walked over to his chair and straddled him, then put his hands on her breasts.
“We can keep talking,” she said as she pressed her lips to his jaw. “Or not. You pick.”
“I pick not.”
“Oh, good.”
* * *
NATALIE DROVE TO work because floating there would cause people to ask too many questions. But she could have floated, or danced, or simply willed herself there due to all the happiness bubbling up inside of her. She was happy, she was content, she was quenched.
Ronan had spent the night. They’d made love twice more and he’d left shortly after dawn. They’d laughed, they’d talked, they’d hung on to each other until their breathing settled and their bodies stopped shaking. Their time together had been magically amazing.
She had always enjoyed sex. She thought it was a natural and fun progression in a relationship. But she’d never experienced such a meeting of two bodies, where everything he did to her was more intense, more satisfying. She was glad he wanted them to continue to see each other—she wanted that, too. And if she had a thought or two that it would be nice if she could pretend it was going to last more than a few weeks, she knew she was only fooling herself.
She wanted family and belonging. Ronan had turned his back on all he had. She couldn’t begin to understand how that was possible. To give up the world. They were too different in spirit for this to last, but for now...it was pure magic.
Once she was at work, she quickly cleared her gallery chores, then signed up for the refurbished-bridge art project. The sections were granted in five-foot segments, and artists were encouraged to work in teams. One side of the bridge would feature the artwork and the other would be a mesh material where people could put locks, like people did on Cologne’s Love Lock bridge. The Happily Inc bridge had been reinforced to handle the heavy load of the locks and the artwork.
She filled out the paperwork and emailed it back and then sent an email to Mathias. Yes, she could have walked over to the studio and told him, but an email seemed more fun. Let him wonder what she was up to.
Around ten, she texted Ronan and asked if he could help her with something. As she waited for his response, she felt a little quiver in her tummy. Anticipation, she thought happily. Excitement. However temporary, she had a man in her life and she planned to enjoy every second of it.
A few minutes later, Ronan walked into her office. She gave herself a couple of heartbeats to enjoy his sexy smile, the slightly mussed hair, the clean-shaven jaw that had been delightfully bristly the previous night.
“You texted?”
His voice was low and teasing, and slightly secretive. She did her best not to sigh.
“Can I steal you away for about twenty minutes?” she asked. “I want to show you something.”
His eyebrows rose and she giggled. “Not that. Something outside. In public.”
“Damn.”
They left the gallery and walked over to the bridge only a short half block away. The city had already put in the markings that would differentiate the various sections. Natalie counted out the spaces until she found the two she’d signed up for.
“The bridge has been reinforced and widened,” she began.
“I can see that.” He kept his gaze on her rather than the bridge.
“The city wants to make it into something beautiful that will attract tourists. We can’t always depend on weddings. What if people stop getting married?”
“Unlikely but I see your point. Go on.”
She pointed to the opposite side. “They’re going to allow people to put up locks. They do it a lot in Europe. Everyone talks about the bridge in Paris but I like the one in Cologne better. Not that I’ve seen either, but still. Given your affection for East German hot chocolate, I thought you’d agree with me.”
“I’ve already ordered more.”
Her mouth watered. “That’s nice.”
“I’ll let you know when it arrives.”
“I appreciate that.” Maybe they could drink it while naked.
Or in bed. Or both. She cleared her throat. “On the other side, the city is asking for artists to create something fun or interesting or whatever, in five-foot sections.” She touched the railing. “I signed us up for this one.”
Before Ronan could react, she spotted Mathias walking toward them.
“Strange place for a meeting,” he said as he approached. “What’s up?”
Ronan looked between the two of them. He didn’t look mad, which was great, but he didn’t look happy, either.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You want us to do one of these sections and Mathias to do the one next to it?”
“Something like that.” She turned to Mathias. “You know about the bridge project, right?”
“Sure. Ten feet is a lot. I’m not sure what we’d do.”
“I have some ideas,” she said quickly. “I want to use the glass you guys throw away. Work it in somehow. But I thought the centerpiece would be my car.”
They both stared at her.
“How would we do that?” Ronan asked.
“In sections. We could cut it in half for starters. Maybe shorten the hood. The phrase ‘coming and going’ keeps popping into my head. It could just be sticking out a bit on our side, or it could be sticking out on both sides. I’m not sure how we’d secure it and the city wants to make sure it’s supersecure so it won’t fall. And we’d have to keep kids from crawling up on it and falling.”
“Not just kids,” Mathias muttered, peering over the side of the bridge. “That’s a hell of a way down.” He turned back to her. “When did you sign us up for this?”
“A little bit ago.”
“When did you talk to the city engineers about what would be required to secure the car?”
She did her best to look wide-eyed and honest. Not that Mathias would get mad at her, but still.
“After I had lunch with my friends a couple of days ago. Silver was the one who suggested using the car. I don’t want to take credit for her idea.”
As she was talking, Ronan quietly eased between her and Mathias. At first she wasn’t sure what he was doing, but then she saw he was acting as a physical barrier...protecting her.
So sweet, she thought, getting all mushy inside. She wasn’t worried about Mathias. He was a really good-natured guy—he would never hurt her, but she liked how Ronan was taking care of her. She wondered if he knew what he was doing or if he was acting instinctively.
Mathias turned to Ronan. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“There are ways to make it work.”
“You two deal with the details and let me know when you want to get together to start the work,” she said as she walked away. “Oh, and talk to Nick about cutting up the car. He’s good with power tools.”
She kept moving toward the far side of the bridge and the safety of the gallery. She held her breath as she waited to see if they would come after her and insist she be a part of the planning, or worse, refuse to get involved. After a couple of seconds, she heard male voices. She was too far away to distinguish the words, but she knew the brothers were talking. Planning.
She released her breath and smiled. The bridge project would give the former twins a chance to hang out together without any pressure. With a little luck they would rediscover how much they enjoyed each other’s company. From there it was a short trip back to being close again. Because Ronan had the gift of family and she was determined that he would appreciate that.
* * *
“DID YOU DO any research?” Ronan asked as he and Natalie drove to the used-car lot on the edge of Palm Desert, the closest semilarge town to Happily Inc.
“Some.” She sat in the passenger seat of his truck, practically bouncing with excitement. He had a bad feeling her research had consisted of exploring the various shades of red available in cars in her price range.
“What are you looking for?” he asked, then added, “Aside from a red car?”
“Something, you know, safe and reliable. As late model as I can afford.”
The words were what he wanted to hear, but he had a feeling she didn’t mean any of them.
In the past couple of weeks, he’d gotten to know Natalie. She was bright, talented, funny and impulsive. When she got an idea in her head, it was impossible to budge. To her, the red car represented something important. All her talk about safety and model years was simply to humor him.
He knew better than to tell himself he wasn’t going to get involved. That her car was her decision. The truth was he and Natalie were seeing each other and he cared about her—as much as he could, given his past. He wanted her to be safe and happy, which meant finding a car they could both agree on. And if they couldn’t find a red one that was also reliable, he had the impossible task of convincing her that color shouldn’t be a priority.
He thought about mentioning how she’d railroaded him into working on the bridge project with his brother...without checking with him first. That should get him something. Only he knew that Natalie wouldn’t see it that way, and truth be told, he wasn’t mad about working with Mathias. Maybe it would help them rediscover what it was like to be brothers. He missed his former twin and had wanted to get things back how they’d been. Maybe the bridge project was a start.
He drove onto the lot and parked. Before he could issue any last-minute instructions, Natalie was out of the truck and heading toward a red BMW convertible gleaming in the sun. Ronan caught up and held in a groan. Yes, the car was a head turner, but it was also more than double her budget.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said, holding her arms open as if she wanted to give the car a hug. “See the color? I’d look good in that.”
“Yes, you would, but where would you put your various art projects? Some of them are big. The roof drops into the trunk, meaning you won’t have any room when the top is down.”
“Oh, you’re right. That’s okay. Plus I could never afford this one.”
She spun in a circle and eyed the different cars. “What about that one?”
Ronan followed her gaze and saw a beat-up import. The paint job was decent but the car looked battered. There was something off on the hood, as if someone had done bodywork in a hurry.
“It’s red,” she said as she approached, her tone doubtful. “Is it just me, or does it look like it’s been in an accident?”
Ronan studied the large As Is tag on the front windshield. “Not this one.”
Natalie hesitated before nodding. “I think you’re right.”
They walked around on the lot. A salesman named Greg joined them. Greg seemed pleasant enough and wasn’t pushy, nor did he balk when Ronan said he’d already made arrangements to have the car Natalie picked checked by a mechanic in town.
They found a great Corolla that met all of Ronan’s requirements, except it was silver. Natalie agreed that it was in mint condition and had low miles. There were no accidents in its past and the interior was in excellent shape.
He watched her circle the car and saw disappointment in the set of her shoulders, then glanced at the red BMW convertible.
“Do you have any other red cars?” he asked, unable to believe he’d spoken those ridiculous words.
“Sure.” Greg led them to a red Honda Fit. It was only a few years old with low miles and in perfect condition. It was also about four thousand above Natalie’s budget.
“It’s amazing,” she breathed until she saw the price tag. “Oh, no. That is so not going to happen. I can’t risk a payment.”
Ronan glanced at Greg. “Give us a minute, please.”
“No problem.”
Ronan waited until Greg stepped a discreet distance away before touching Natalie’s arm. “Let me pay the difference. It’s the least I can do,” he added before she could speak. “I’m the reason you lost your car in the first place.”
“If I hadn’t lost my car, I couldn’t a
fford a new one now, so it’s totally fine. You’re not paying for part of my car.”
He didn’t know what to say or do. If only he’d thought to contact the lot ahead of time and arrange to pay down a good-condition red car. If only he could convince her that the extra money didn’t mean anything to him.
“I owe you for the deductible on your insurance. You’re going to let me pay that, aren’t you?” Not that it would make up the difference.
She hesitated.
“I want to, Natalie. Please. I would feel a lot less guilty if I could at least do that.”
She nodded. “Thank you. That’s really generous. But nothing else.” She looked at the Fit, then sighed. “I just can’t swing it. If only the Corolla was a different color. I like how it looks and I know the car gets really good reviews.”
A light bulb went on in Ronan’s brain. “I’ll get it painted,” he told her. “It’s only a few hundred dollars. Come on, Natalie. It’s the perfect solution. You get a car I don’t have to worry about and it’s red.” He leaned close and lowered his voice to a seductive pitch. “Candy-apple red.”
Her eyes widened. “I could get the car painted?”
“No, I could. I’m pushing the sensible car. Come on. I’m an artist. Let me get it painted.”
He hoped she wouldn’t think to point out she was just as much an artist.
“You’re sure it’s not much?” She sounded doubtful.
“You’ve seen those commercials on TV, right? Painting a car is cheap.”
He was lying through his teeth and he knew it. A decent paint job would be a few thousand, but he was willing to accept being a weasel about this if it meant she had a safe car that she loved.
“I want to double-check with Greg.” She looked at him. “I don’t trust you not to try to give me something expensive.”
“How would that be bad?”
She considered the question. “I’m not sure, but it would be.” She waved Greg over. “If I took the Corolla, could I get it painted?”
“Of course. We have a paint shop right here in the service department. They do an excellent job and you’d get a discount.”
Why Not Tonight Page 11
