He frowned a manly frown. “I can take my own pills, Violet. You don’t need to get up in the middle of the night to take care of me.”
“It’s what I live for. Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll use my phone alarm. You’re not going to talk me out of it, Ulrich. You were in a bad accident. Your body needs time to recover. Just say thank-you and go with it.”
“Thank you.”
“See how easy that was? Now let’s talk dinner.” She handed him the room service menu. “Your nurse said you might not have much of an appetite for a couple of days, but you do need something.”
Instead of glancing at the offerings, he studied her. “I’m sorry all this was thrust upon you. You must have better things to be doing with your time.”
“My life is easily transported. I have my clothes and my computer. I do most of my business through the mail and over the internet. There’s a sign on my storefront explaining how to get in touch with me. If anyone needs an emergency alteration, I’m very reachable.”
“You’re too kind.”
Drat. Kind? She wanted to be sexy or enticing. Had the man forgotten how he’d kissed her and invited her back to his room? Had he changed his mind about all that? Yes, he was injured and she wasn’t expecting anything to happen between them, but a slight hint of interest or a mildly inappropriate remark would be nice.
Nursing was hard, she thought with a sigh. “All right, Your Lordship. Dinner. How about some nice soup and maybe chicken fingers?”
“I didn’t know chickens had fingers.”
She winced. “Now I have a visual and can never eat them again.”
“My apologies. If I order them, will your world be restored?”
“I’m just not sure.”
“Then I shall vow to work harder.”
If only, she thought, holding in a smile. If only...
CHAPTER TEN
MATHIAS COULDN’T SHAKE the feeling of having forgotten something important. It was there—whispering in the back of his mind, only he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what the hell it was. He wanted to say it didn’t matter, only along with that nagging what was it? sensation was the feeling that it was important. Really important.
He returned his attention to the glass giraffe in front of him. This was the third one he’d made and he was starting to believe he was getting where he needed to go. The sense of movement had grown with each piece. This was his best one yet, and the tallest.
He liked the expression on Millie’s face, the way her tail curved and the lines of her torso. She looked as if she could come to life at any moment.
He knew the next step was to start on the other half of the piece. To try to create Carol in glass. While he knew he was onto something with the image he’d sketched the other morning, he wasn’t sure he could reproduce any part of the woman in a medium as static as glass. Carol was alive. She moved and talked and breathed. How could he reduce that to glass? What made the concept even more challenging was whenever he thought about how to begin, he couldn’t hold a single image of her in his mind. She was always changing, shifting, morphing. First smiling, then talking, then laughing. And then it got complicated.
Lately, whenever he thought about her, he imagined her naked. A totally dumb-ass thing to do, but there it was. His guyness taking over his brain. He could practically taste her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands. That line of thought led him other places he had no business going and then he was daydreaming instead of working, and dealing with a painful erection.
He had no idea how to solve the problem. Okay, that wasn’t true. He had several ideas, all of which would probably have her slapping him upside the head. Still, a guy could dream...and he did.
He lightly touched the glass statue of Millie, then surrendered to the inevitable. He couldn’t avoid her—not when he had to tell her about Ronan and the donation. Better to do it now and get it over with. Then he would go home and do his damnedest to figure out what was bugging him, and how he could stop dreaming about the one woman he could never have.
* * *
CAROL PULLED INTO her driveway only to find Mathias and Sophie sitting on her porch. The beagle immediately jumped up and began wagging her tail, but Mathias’s feelings were more difficult to read.
That made two of them, Carol thought as she parked her car and slowly got out. She still couldn’t define all the emotions swirling around inside of her. Anger, embarrassment, anger, confusion and maybe some, you know, anger. She wanted to grab him and shake him until he either admitted he remembered but now regretted what had happened or looked at her so blankly she had to accept that he really didn’t recall what had happened.
Neither scenario was especially happy, but if she had to pick, she preferred a brain freeze to revulsion.
Sophie rushed over, her leash trailing behind her. Carol crouched down to greet the happy dog.
“How’s my best girl?” she asked, rubbing Sophie’s face and dodging kisses.
“She knows you say that to all your animals,” Mathias told her. “She’s not impressed.”
Sophie continued the greeting dance. Carol forgot to be mad and smiled at him. “All evidence to the contrary?”
“Yeah, there is that.”
She straightened and tried to find her inner rage, but it seemed to have faded. Ah, the power of the beagle. Or maybe it was looking at Mathias. Just the sight of him was enough to right her world which was, considering their last encounter and his complete lack of reaction, incredibly frustrating.
“So how are—”
Things. She’d been going to say how are things. Only she couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare when she caught sight of the glass piece sitting next to Mathias on her small porch.
The statue was maybe two feet tall. Slim and delicate, the image of Millie was so perfect, so lifelike, that she half expected it to start walking. Despite the lack of color of the glass, Mathias had captured the giraffe’s features—her wide eyes, the tilt of her head, the long, elegant lines of her neck. While there weren’t any markings, there were still darker areas indicating the pattern of her coat. No, that wasn’t right—the glass was clear, so were the markings etched?
She moved toward it and put out a hand, then pulled it back. Mathias gave her a lopsided smile.
“It’s yours, Carol. You can pick it up and everything.”
She stared at him. “Mine?”
“I made it for you. I’ve been working on this idea.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Yes, this is for you. I know how you feel about Millie and I thought you’d like to have it.”
She carefully touched the cool glass, half expecting it to move, as Millie would. Everything about the piece was perfect.
“I don’t understand,” she breathed. “I didn’t know you could—” She pressed her lips together. “You never make things like this.”
“I make what I make because I want to,” he told her. “Not because I don’t know how to do anything else.”
But why? The question went unasked. She didn’t want to make him feel bad or say the wrong thing, yet what was he doing, making plates and vases when he could create something so amazing?
He stood and called for Sophie, then pointed to the door. “I’d like to talk to you about something if you have a second.”
What? Had he remembered? Decided to come clean about faking not remembering? Was he going to tell her he was sorry, that it had been awful? Was the giraffe a mercy gift?
She picked up the piece of glass and handed it to him, then dug her keys out of her bag and opened the door. She would wait, she told herself. Let him say what he wanted to say before jumping to conclusions.
They went inside. Sophie sniffed around her living room, as if making sure no other dog had challenged her favorite guest-dog s
tatus, then made herself at home in an armchair. Carol took back the giraffe and placed it in the center of her small kitchen table where it would catch the light. She thought briefly about offering Mathias a drink, but the last time they’d had liquor, things had gone weird, so maybe not. She returned to the living room and sat at one end of the sofa. He remained standing.
“It’s about Millie,” he began, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, then pulling them out.
“Do you want it back?” she asked. He’d said it was for her. Did he not mean for her to keep it?
“Not that one. The real Millie. I talked to Ronan. He’s going to donate a piece. Atsuko will hold a private event at the gallery. She’ll put out the word to collectors and make a night of it. The proceeds will go to Millie’s fund. It should be enough to buy the herd and get them here.”
He kept talking, but she couldn’t hear anything else. Not after those simple words—The proceeds will go to Millie’s fund. It should be enough to buy the herd.
She thought about her solitary giraffe who had no friends and how much better it would be when Millie was part of a family. She thought about the fund-raisers she’d been researching and how far she and Millie still had to go. It could have taken years, but here in one moment, with a few words, Mathias had changed everything.
She stood, then sat back down as her shaking legs refused to support her. “What? Mathias, are you sure?”
“That you can get that much? Yeah. Ronan’s work goes for a lot. He wants you to pick something out. Ask him which ones are the most rare. Those will go for the most.”
She blinked away tears. “No, I mean are you sure he’ll do this?”
“Yeah, he will.”
The truth slammed into her. “Because you asked him to,” she whispered, more to herself than him. “This is you, not him.”
“It’s his piece that will bring in the money you need.” His dark gaze settled on her face. “I should have thought of this a long time ago. It’s those damn cans. I’m tired of seeing them everywhere.”
She stood and crossed to him. There were no words, nothing she could say to express her gratitude. Still, she had to try.
“Thank you,” she said and instinctively reached for him.
In that moment, she wasn’t sure if she was going to hug him, kiss him or burst into tears. Before she could decide, he moved back and half turned away from her.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said quickly. “I like watching Millie in the morning. It will be better when she has her herd.”
The words were friendly enough, the body language less so. She couldn’t fool herself any longer—he wasn’t interested in her that way. He never had been. Whatever had happened that night had been the result of too much alcohol. He was pretending to forget because if he admitted what happened, they would have to talk about it. He would be forced to answer questions and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
Humiliation over that night combined with happiness about the money for Millie. Maybe he’d really wanted to help or maybe he’d asked Ronan out of sex guilt. She didn’t want it to be the latter, but either way, she wasn’t going to say no. Not when giraffe happiness was on the line. As for her own battered feelings, she would deal with them when she was alone.
“Thank you,” she said again, careful to move away so he wouldn’t worry that she would attack him again. “You’re doing an amazing thing.”
“It’s Ronan, not me.”
“It’s you, but I’ll be sure to thank him, as well.”
They looked at each other, then away. Silence settled between them, creating an uncomfortable pause.
“I should get home so I can feed Sophie,” he told her. “Get in touch with Ronan. He’s expecting to hear from you. And Atsuko. She said she can pull this together pretty fast.”
“I will. You were great. Millie and I appreciate all that you’ve done.”
“No big deal.”
He walked to the door and whistled for Sophie. The beagle raced after him, her tail wagging.
Carol let them out, walked to the kitchen table and stared at the giraffe statue. It was still amazing and beautiful and practically alive. A gift from Mathias—perhaps a subconscious way for him to apologize for not wanting to have sex with her again. Not that he’d had sex the first time.
Her eyes burned, but she refused to give in to anything but happy emotions. Millie was getting a herd. That was what mattered. As for Mathias—he’d never been for her. She’d been silly to think otherwise.
She dug out her cell phone and pushed a couple of buttons. When her father answered, she drew in a breath. “Dad, you’ll never guess what just happened. It’s about Millie. She’s getting her herd.”
* * *
CAROL WAS USED to being around stylish women. Her sister dressed really well and had a talent for taking an outfit from ordinary to amazing with a bit of ribbon and a couple of buttons. But when compared to the woman who ran the gallery, Violet was just an amateur, while Atsuko was a grand master.
The fifty-something gallery owner favored Asian inspired outfits. Today’s magazine-worthy ensemble featured slim black pants and a deep red embroidered jacket with a mandarin collar. Her hair was sleek, her makeup perfect. Normally Carol was completely comfortable with her sensible work look, but in the gallery and around Atsuko, she felt the tiniest bit frumpy.
“I’m so sorry,” Atsuko told her. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of approaching Ronan myself months ago. It’s the perfect solution.”
“For me. I’m less sure about how Ronan feels.” Not that she was going to push her luck by asking. Mathias had gotten his brother to agree to the donation. She was going to take it and run, so to speak. If Mathias was acting out of sexual regret guilt, that was perfectly fine with her.
Okay, not fine, exactly. In truth, she was still humiliated by the thought, but she would get over it. At least Millie would live a happy life. That was far more important than any shame Carol might be dealing with.
“Ronan has an entire storeroom of pieces I’ve tried to talk him into selling.” Atsuko smiled. “I’m glad one of us was able to get him to sell one of them. The collectors are going to be salivating. I’ve spoken to your father and we’re going to coordinate publicity. As soon as you decide which one you want, I’ll get it photographed and put out the word. We’re going to have a lovely event.”
Carol was less sure about picking out a piece of art but she figured she would simply ask Ronan his opinion. While she’d never had much contact with him beyond casual hellos, Nick and Mathias were both nice guys. Ronan couldn’t be all that different than his brothers.
“I’m so excited,” Atsuko continued. “This is going to be an evening to remember.”
“I hope so. Thank you for hosting the event. I really appreciate it.”
“I’m happy to help.”
Carol thanked her again and left. She would have to get with Ronan in the next day or so and arrange to pick out the piece of glass. She’d heard he had a big studio up in the mountains where he lived, so she guessed she would be heading there. First, though, she should take a few pictures of Millie so she could show Ronan who he was really helping.
She headed to the animal preserve, stopping by the office to check in with her dad. Ed was sitting at his computer. He looked up and saw her, then stood and crossed to her.
“There’s my girl,” he said, hugging her tight. “Congratulations on scoring the money.”
“It hasn’t happened yet,” she said.
“But it will. I’ve already been in touch with Atsuko and she’s confident we can get at least three hundred thousand for the piece. She’s going to waive her commission and donate the food and drinks. That means we get all the money free and clear.” He led her to his desk and showed her the spreadsheet he’d printed out.
“Your uncle and I have been working the numbers. We already have the expanded barn permit and the money to start building. We’ll be ready to welcome the giraffes we buy.”
The barns would be sturdy, temperature controlled, with lots of light. Each stall would lead to a fenced-in outdoor area, allowing the new residents to get used to sights and sounds. It also meant the new giraffes could see each other without interacting physically. Later, the stalls could be used if one of the giraffes needed medical attention.
Her father tapped the spreadsheet. “Ted and I have been in touch with a few private sanctuaries who have a surplus giraffe population. Plus there’s one lady in Texas who has a giraffe she wants to sell.” He shook his head. “Who keeps a giraffe in their backyard? Anyway, we have a lot of possibilities. Transportation is going to be a challenge, but we’ll work it out. And we’re hoping there’s enough money left over to pay for a vet.”
An ongoing problem, Carol thought. With their growing animal population, they had to deal with how to care for them. She could handle the day-to-day issues and she had several resources in retired zoo workers who gave her plenty of advice, but medical treatment was specialized.
So far they’d been able to contract the medical help they needed, paying a zoo for veterinary care, but that was only a short-term solution.
“We’re going to have to hire someone,” she said. “But that’s not going to be easy.”
“Ted and I were talking about an alternative. What if we found a vet who was interested in moving to exotic animal care? We could pay for their training with the understanding they would come work for us when they were ready. There would have to be a contract—they’d work here so many years in exchange for us training them.”
“I like that idea.”
“Us, too,” her dad said, putting his arm around her. “You did good, Carol. We’re proud of you.”
Second Chance Girl--A Modern Fairy Tale Romance Page 13
