Forbidden Secrets

by Morgan Kelley

  They were going to have to be sneaky.

  She knew how to play it. Hopefully, Julian would play along. It would be fun. This was her favorite part of the job.

  Like with being a Fed, Tori enjoyed pretending she could be anyone she wanted. Now it was going to be important client who needed to furnish their building business with art.

  “Actually, do you have any art by an artist by the name of Lennox? I saw some of her work in Damascus, and I love it. She doesn’t use a last name, so I don’t know if she’s popular enough to be in your awesome gallery.”

  Julian stared at her as she laid it on thick. He got it. Tori was going to start to dig for information.

  Milo Perkin’s face lit up.

  “Do I have her art? She’s exclusively with this studio. In fact, she has an exhibit next week. We would love for you to attend. She’s revealing a whole new set of paintings.”

  “Oh, we won’t be here. This is a quick stop over. Maybe you can show us her work and tell us a little about her?”

  Julian was amused.

  His wife was playing the game. When it came to this kind of thing, he let her lead. She was good at screwing with the public. It had everything to do with her FBI past.

  “I actually do happen to know her really well. I’m not supposed to show the work yet, but if you’d like, you can pick out the ones you want, put a deposit down, and then we can deliver them to you when the show is over. I won’t tell Lennox if you don’t,” he said, winking at her.

  Yeah, he was a used car salesman in disguise.

  She smiled sweetly, trying to keep the act going, despite what she thought of the man.

  “Do you really know all that much about her? I hear she’s a recluse who doesn’t really come out in public,” she asked, following the man.

  “I do, and she really is. Lennox is an up and coming artist and so many people want her work in their offices. She speaks from the heart with her work. It’s lovely.”

  “When we buy art for our business, we like the back story. I think that art should move you. If it doesn’t, then what’s the point?”

  He agreed. “You are so right. How many pieces are you looking for?” he asked.

  Julian almost broke out in laughter. The man was so focused on dollar signs that he wasn’t seeing the picture. Tori was about to interview him without his permission or knowledge.

  This turned him right on.

  “I don’t know. Ten to twelve pieces, if they are the right ones. We have a multi-floor building and a few offices that need some sprucing up with beautiful art.”

  The man nearly split his face open from the huge smile. He was theirs.

  Hook.

  Line.

  Sinker.

  “Tell me about her, please? You clearly must interact with her, right?”

  He brought them to a room and unlocked the door. Once inside, he hit the lights. They room was illuminated and they could see the gorgeous paintings.

  “We go way back. We went to college together.”

  Tori walked around looking at the pieces. When she stopped in front of one of them, it caught her eye. She genuinely liked it.

  Lennox had a gift.

  She was definitely an artist, and not some rich girl who was bored with her life.

  “That’s awesome that you’ve been friends for so long,” Tori stated.

  “Oh, we were more than friends,” he offered.

  Pay dirt.

  Here’s where it began.

  “You don’t say!”

  “We dated for a while.”

  Tori glanced over. Julian was standing behind the man, trying not to laugh.

  “You did? Then why the hell didn’t you marry her?” Tori stated. “She’s a wonderful artist, and you own a gallery. How much more can two people have in common? That seems like a match made in Heaven.”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t as bright.

  Clearly, he knew there were issues, and he was trying to hide them.

  “We were set up by her grandmother to be a couple, but it…it didn’t work for me. We were better off as friends. I think that’s why we have such an awesome working relationship.”

  Yeah, that was code for…she dumped his ass.

  That could be a motive for killing people. Maybe this douchebag, who liked to hit women, was stalking the people who ruined his chances with Lennox.

  Then he was going after her to end it.

  Tori redirected his focus so as not to lose his attention. She needed more information.

  “I really love this one. What’s it called?”

  He leaned it forward and read the card on the back. “Lennox calls this one ‘Passion’. It’s part of her feelings collection. All the paintings will have some emotional tie to her. Each day, she takes her mood and makes it art.”

  Tori liked the reds, oranges, and bright swirls. It reminded her of sex. It was passionate and wild. “I want it.”

  Julian stared at her.

  “What?”

  Did he hear right?

  His wife was supposed to be playing along, not actually shopping for pricy art. What the hell was she thinking?

  “I really want it for our office. It calls to me, Julian. I think it’s meant to be mine.”

  He was almost afraid to ask, but he had no choice. “How much does passion cost?”

  Tori tried not to laugh. His voice said it all. Someone was going to be working this one off.

  “It’s four thousand dollars.”

  He stared at his wife.

  “And you really want this one?” he asked, praying she’d say no.

  She was pointing at her belly, and he knew what that meant. He was getting a child, so that meant she was getting a painting.

  Hell!

  It was a fair swap.

  Julian pulled out his credit card. When the man took it and rushed away, he pointed at her. “You’re lucky that is a tax deduction.”

  She kissed him. “Who are you kidding? You would have gotten it for me anyway. Besides, it reminds me of us when we have sex. You know…passion. I want to look at it every day and think about how explosive we are in bed.”

  Okay, that changed everything.

  Julian was no fool.

  He wanted his wife thinking about sex as much as possible. A happy wife was a fully sexed hubby, and he knew it.

  “I’ll humor you since you’re interviewing him and doing a damn good job.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Littlemoon. I do have my skills.”

  He was about to make a comment on them, when his wife got his attention.

  “Shhhhhh, here he comes.”

  When the man came back, Julian signed the slip. He scribbled his office address on the back so it would be delivered post art show. For four thousand dollars, it had better hang itself. It was huge, and he didn’t want to have to figure out how to manage that. Somehow, a nail and hammer probably wouldn’t do.

  “I saw something on the news,” Tori began, working on the set up.

  “What?” Milo asked, still clearly riding his sale high. He was practically bouncing around as he showed them more paintings trying to get them to buy more.

  Tori hoped he bought it. “That this Lennox woman’s family is cursed.”

  He started laughing.

  “You know how the media is,” he stated.

  She had to play this carefully. Just earlier, she’d said the woman was a recluse. Tori had to hope that Milo didn’t watch all that much news programing.

  “Is it true? I don’t know if I want paintings from a cursed artist on my walls. That’s…creepy.”

  His face said it all.

  He was disappointed.

  “Yeah, there’s a curse. It’s with how much money they have, and that’s it. Trust me, I should be so lucky.”

  He waved his arms.

  “I will admit that the sales of her paintings have helped me expand. People love her work. She’s very good at what she does.”

  Tori went in fo
r the kill. “I can’t imagine they wouldn’t be,” she offered. “I’m sure it will only go up in value…one day.”

  “Yes, like a Vincent van Gogh or Rembrandt.”

  She stared at him wondering if he knew where she was taking this, or if he was total idiot.

  “It sucks that she’d have to die first,” Tori stated, checking out more paintings. “Isn’t that when the other artists became big successes?”

  “Yes, that’s the sad fact in the art world. An artist is seldom appreciated to their full potential until they are dead. In Lennox’s case, anyone who had her art would stand to make a great deal of money on their investment. She’s big now. That is generally magnified after an artist’s death.”

  Julian’s eyes met his wife’s.

  Funny.

  The man sounded a little too happy about that. It said a lot about him.

  It also made him a suspect.

  A big one.

  * * * L i t t l e m o o n * * *

  Easton Estate

  He was sitting on a chair in her studio as he checked the place out. Her workspace was bigger than his whole damn apartment. In fact, it was bigger than his last place and current one if you put them side by side.

  That boggled his mind.

  Hart didn’t know how much space one woman needed to paint, but apparently, it was a lot.

  From the looks of things, Lennox liked light and space when she worked. While she was in this room, her mood was much better.

  She was happy.

  She was singing along to the music.

  She was smiling again.

  You could learn a lot about people when you watched them. It had been another reason he loved being a cop. You could study people and no one thought you were some creepy perv.

  Speaking of ogling with the intent to molest…

  He focused on Lennox as she was kneeling on the floor in front of a giant canvas with dark paints beside her. She’d yet to start, but it appeared it was about to begin.

  “What are you making?” he asked.

  “I need a darker piece for my collection. They are all bright and colorful, but I have a few clients who enjoy my darker work. I like to cater to everyone at a show.”

  He looked around at the paintings against the wall. To him, the unartistic type, he couldn’t tell the difference. Honestly, it looked like paint thrown on a canvas.

  Seriously?

  People paid for this?

  He was pretty sure that Ivy could do it. Well, he hoped she could. He wouldn’t let her have paint. He liked getting his deposits back when he moved out of a place, and he wasn’t an idiot. Kids and paint were never a good thing.

  “Do you like to paint?” she asked, glancing up.

  “Hell no. I like beer, football, and pizza. I’m lucky if I can match my tie to my socks when I need to, so putting colors together is a definite NO. In fact, I only dress Ivy in pink for that reason. Girl’s things have too many color choices.”

  “Well, it’s nice to know you’ve got your likes down,” she teased. “And there’s nothing wrong with pink.”

  There was one thing missing from his list.

  He had almost added sex to it, but it had been so long he wasn’t sure if that was true.

  It hadn’t changed, had it?

  It was still stick tab A into slot B.

  Crap!

  Now he was thinking about sex—with her. It was only day two, and he wanted her. This was a damn bad sign, and he knew it.

  “Does Ivy paint?” she asked, trying to get him to open up about his daughter. When he talked about her, he would smile. She didn’t think he even realized it, but it happened. That was a sure sign that he was a good father.

  When he would say her name, there was joy in his voice. It made her want to smile too.

  Besides, Everhart Rose had a killer smile. It made his eyes twinkle, and the little crinkles around the edges were sexy.

  Hell!

  He was sexy.

  Hart found that amusing. “No one in their right mind gives a three year old paint and lets them have at it. I don’t know much about art stuff, but I do know that’s a recipe for disaster. I don’t think I can sell a painted couch and call it art.”

  She shrugged. “I started at five. It was an outlet.”

  He didn’t push.

  If Lennox wanted to spill it, she would.

  “What are you calling this one?” he asked, changing the subject so she’d smile again. He loved the dimple in her one cheek. Hart wanted to run his fingers over it.

  Then she gave him what he wanted.

  She smiled.

  His heart quaked in his chest, and he didn’t understand how she managed to do it.

  “I don’t know what this one is going to be yet. Do you want to help me?”

  He lifted a brow. “You want me to help you do a painting that’s going to cost how much?”

  “Around five thousand dollars. It might be more if it’s really good.”

  He snorted. “Ah, no thank you. If I touch it, I can guarantee it won’t be worth five dollars.”

  “Really, Everhart, come here and help. It’ll be fun. I’ll show you.”

  He wasn’t buying it, but he wouldn’t mind being near her. She was wearing shorts and a tank top. What he wanted to do was…

  Yeah, not paint.

  Hart took his place beside her. “Okay, what’s first?”

  “What color appeals to you?” she asked, pointing to the palate before them. It ranged from blues to purples, and to a midnight shade of black.

  Immediately, he went with a dark purple that looked almost like the night sky.

  “Go for it,” she offered.

  “What do you mean ‘go for it’? Is that some art term that you just whipped out to confuse the hell out of me? How does one ‘go for it’?”

  Lennox laughed. “Let me rephrase for you. Why don’t you start painting?”

  “With?”

  “Your hands.”

  He stared at her as if she was insane. “Again, and I don’t mean to sound like an idiot, but what the hell am I supposed to paint?”

  “What do you want to paint?” she asked.

  “For some reason, I feel really confused right now, and I don’t understand why. It’s like going around in a circle.”

  She smiled at him.

  Lennox understood what he was saying. They each used a different side of the brain. He was analytical, and a detective to the core, and she was an artist.

  They were totally different people.

  “Art is about feeling. You create what you’re living inside at the moment. Think about something from your childhood that you loved, and let that emotion carry you.”

  He listened to her.

  That sounded way too easy. He was cop to his core. What the hell did he know about painting?

  “Are you sure?”

  “You can’t make a mistake. Art is subjective. What you see may not be what I see, but it doesn’t make it wrong.”

  Here went nothing.

  He grabbed the container of paint and dumped it on the canvas. It splashed all over her legs.

  “Oh, shit! I am so sorry!”

  “Everhart, do you really think I am clean after hours of painting?”

  He wasn’t sure.

  When he looked at her, she looked pristine from her sweep of red hair to her tidy appearance.

  “No?”

  She laughed at how he made that one word a question. “Let’s paint.”

  He began smearing the paint across the canvas with his hands. To him, it looked like a dark puddle of murk. While he liked the color, he didn’t think it was attractive. The dark purple-black went from one end to another.

  “I think that’s all I have,” he stated.

  “Is it the night sky?” she asked.

  He stared at her when she got it. He didn’t know how, but she nailed it. “You said my favorite memory, and that’s camping with my family as a kid. I think it needs s
omething.”

  She did too.

  Lennox took a chance. She stuck her fingers in white paint and flicked them gently at the canvas. It lit it up like stars in the sky.

  “It looks like the sky,” he admitted.

  “I’ve never been camping, but when I was a kid, I would look up at the sky all the time,” she admitted.

  “What did you wish for?” he asked.

  Lennox stared at him. She knew she couldn’t tell him that. She’d always wished for a life where she’d find a good person to love her. She wanted to belong and feel like she was worth something. Even though she had everything growing up, she never had love.

  “Say it,” he said, knowing she was holding back.

  “I always wanted love. I never had it. My life wasn’t like Ivy’s. My father didn’t dress me in pretty pink things like hers. My father couldn’t remember my name. I think they only had me because it was expected.”

  That broke his heart.

  “Were you lonely?” he asked. He could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes.

  “All the damn time. Want to know a secret?” she asked, not sure why she was going to share it with him.

  Then again, she did. He was safe. When she was with Everhart Rose, she felt…protected.

  “Absolutely.”

  “My name…”

  “What about it?”

  “I once heard my mother tell the maid that they shouldn’t have named me after the china.”

  He wanted to be sick, angry, and cry at the same time.

  “My middle name was because of the holiday—not because I was loved. If anything, I was an obligation. So I would wish for love, and I hope one day I live long enough to feel it once.”

  “You’ve never been in love?” he asked.

  “No.” It was a lie.

  She was in love at that moment, and she knew it. Only he’d never love her. How could he?

  She didn’t believe she was worthy.

  He didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t telling the truth, and he didn’t know why? Why would she tell him something so personal, only to keep some of it hidden?

  “Lennox.”

  “It’s okay, Everhart. Really, it’s okay.”