by Janice Sims
Ana remembered all of the social events she’d invited him to that Erik had to miss because of work. As his friend, she’d been magnanimous and not complained. She vowed to be just as understanding now that they were engaged. Engaged! She still hadn’t been able to convince herself this was really happening. Smiling, she finished her coffee and set the cup and saucer on the table in front of her.
“Ana!”
She looked up into the dark brown eyes of Damon Cohen. He was moving toward her, hand outstretched, with a huge grin on his good-looking face. In his late thirties, Damon was about her height with a deep tan and curly black hair that he wore shorn close to his well-shaped head. He wore glasses with black frames, which gave him an intelligent, although somewhat myopic look.
She put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet straight into his arms for a warm hug. “You look wonderful,” he said effusively. He peered at her, noting the glowing skin with very little makeup and how bright her dark eyes were. “What’s happened to you since I saw you last?” he asked suspiciously.
Ana laughed softly as they made their way to his office, “I don’t know what you mean,” she said coyly.
“I expected you to come in looking drained. Weeks in your studio, working like a madwoman. I’m used to artists who suffer for their work. You look like you just spent a week on the beach in the Mediterranean.”
“Actually, I went to Connecticut for the weekend,” she said.
“Ah, with Erik,” he said knowingly. “No wonder you look so good.”
She and Damon had been friends since they met at a party a male model friend of hers threw at his gallery. The party was to launch the model’s new fragrance and Damon’s gallery was chosen as the venue for its chic, modern style. Once Ana admitted to him that she painted, he insisted on seeing her work and after seeing it he had pestered her to let him introduce her to the New York City art world. It was finally happening.
Damon had also insisted, upon meeting Erik, that Erik was in love with her and she would be a fool not to act on it. Ana had laughed it off.
Now, she was pleased to be able to shock and delight him with, “Erik asked me to marry him.”
Damon screamed like a little girl. The receptionist, who was the only other person in the gallery since his client had left, shot up from her desk and looked in their direction with her mouth open in astonishment. She undoubtedly had never heard her employer make that sound before. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Damon waved her off with, “Fine, fine, sorry about that—as you were.”
He briskly pulled Ana into his glass-enclosed office and closed the door. He hugged her again, and Ana could tell it was all he could do to resist jumping up and down.
Holding her at arm’s length, he beamed. “I couldn’t be happier for you, darling. I knew it would happen sooner or later. When’s the wedding?”
He gestured to the mocha-colored designer couch. After they were seated he turned to her, his eyes riveted on her. “Or have you had the chance to plan yet?”
“No plans,” Ana told him. “It hasn’t been twenty-four hours since he asked. I probably shouldn’t even be talking about it, but it’s hard to hold it in. Sophia phoned earlier and I blurted it out. After she stopped laughing, she said exactly what you just said. It was only a matter of time.”
“What was she laughing about?” asked Damon. He always loved a good humorous story. But Ana couldn’t divulge what Sophia had found so funny.
It did replay in her mind, though.
She was barely out of bed before the phone rang and her sister was on the other end. “Matty won’t let me sleep anyway so I decided to call you and see how your date went last night,” Sophia said, curiosity clearly evident in her tone. “I can’t believe this is your first date with Erik!”
Ana told her about dinner and the walk, and riding on the back of Erik’s Harley. How sensual the whole night had been, culminating in their expression of love for each other and…she gave a dramatic pause…then he’d proposed.
“Oh, my God!” Sophia had yelled into Ana’s ear. “He proposed after one date? That man is not wasting time. I knew I liked him for a reason. Then, I suppose, you took him to bed. I’m not trying to be nosy or anything, you don’t have to answer if it isn’t something you want to talk about, but I’m curious. I mean it’s been nearly two years that you two have known each other and have kept your hands to yourselves. There must have been a lot of…um…tension to get rid of.”
“Well, yeah,” Ana said. “There was…is…a lot of tension.”
“Is?” asked Sophia. “You mean you didn’t do anything?”
“Neither of us were equipped for sex last night,” Ana admitted sheepishly.
“You mean you didn’t have any condoms?” her big sister asked, giggling loudly.
“Not one,” Ana confirmed.
“That’s unbelievable,” Sophia said, laughing even louder. “It’s been so long since either of you made love that neither of you thought to buy condoms? Can I call Mom and tell her, can I, please?”
“You’d better not tell anyone,” Ana warned fiercely.
“I’ve gotta tell someone,” Sophia insisted. “Matty, did you hear how totally clueless your auntie and soon-to-be uncle are?”
Ana laughed in spite of being irritated with her sister. “Let Matty be the only person you tell!”
“Okay, okay,” Sophia agreed. “Then tonight is the night?”
“Definitely,” Ana said with a sigh.
“Are you ready?” her nosy sister wanted to know.
“More than ready,” Ana said right away.
“Yeah, I’m sure you are. What I meant was are you ready for how it’s going to change your relationship with Erik?”
“Why would our relationship change?”
“Sweetie, sex changes everything. Even the most enlightened male will become an alpha male on you. If he even detects some other guy sniffing after you, he becomes a beast. It’s the pheromones or something. Sex changes everything, I’m telling you. So be prepared little sister.”
Ana laughed, “Come on, Erik is the sweetest, most understanding man I’ve ever met. Sex isn’t going to turn him into a Neanderthal.”
“It’s a physical thing,” Sophia insisted. “Love combined with sex turns men into protective, possessive, obsessive beasts. I ought to know, I’m married to one. Just like our mother and our grandmother before her. Ask Mom, she’ll tell you.”
“I am not phoning Mom with a question like that,” Ana adamantly refused.
“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Sophia said lightly. Lowering her voice, she added, “I can’t believe your nephew has fallen asleep, as loud as I was talking. I’m gonna put him to bed. Good night, sis, have fun tonight.”
It was already morning in New York City, but Ana said, “Goodnight, sis,” anyway.
Now, Ana smiled at Damon and said, “It was just something I said that struck her as funny.”
“Well, I’m seriously thrilled,” said Damon. “I love weddings. I can give you the number of my wedding planner if you like.”
Damon had married his long-time partner, Sidney, last year. Ana had been one of the bridesmaids. It had been a simple, tasteful affair at the Waldorf Astoria, if you can have a simple affair at the world-famous luxury hotel.
“I’d like that,” Ana said thankfully. It was good she had friends who were happy to advise her. She was sure her mother also was going to want to be in on the planning. Natalie Corelli had taken great pains to give Sophia the wedding of her dreams when she had married Matteo. And that had been a rushed affair since Sophia was expecting before the wedding. Natalie warned her that even though she adored Matteo and their child-to-be, she would not ultimately be pleased with wedding photos of her with a huge belly.
Damon
got up to find the wedding planner’s number. When he located it on his computer, he scribbled the name and number for Ana on a notepad. He went back and sat down beside her, offering her the sheet of paper.
“I suppose we should talk business, even though I could spend a delightful morning talking weddings.” He paused and breathed deeply. “The first thing I decide on when I’m introducing a new artist is the theme. You are a portrait painter. Your work is so realistic it’s startling. When someone stands before your work, studying it, absorbing the emotions you convey they can’t help feeling transported. They know they’re not in Kansas anymore, so to speak. So your theme is going to be The Wizard of Oz. You do know that story, don’t you? You grew up in Italy. You might not be familiar with it.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve seen the movie several times,” Ana told him. “I love it.”
“Very good,” said Damon. “Well, in the beginning the movie is in black and white. Then, when Dorothy is transported to Oz, the movie is in color. Your show will begin with your drawings in charcoal and will progress to your larger, more colorful works. In my opinion, even though you use real models in your work, finished results have a fantasy element to them.”
Ana had been nodding in agreement. “I like the concept,” she said.
“We will even have a yellow-brick road the night of the show,” Damon said, smiling. “I know people in the theater who can make it happen. The patrons will walk the yellow-brick road while they get the full effect of your work.”
Ana looked at him in amazement, “No wonder you’re so successful,” she exclaimed.
Damon smiled warmly. “I do know how to put on a show. But, darling, you’re going to be the star.”
* * *
Ana’s phone rang while she was headed back home in a cab half an hour later. Seeing Erik’s name and number in the display, she cooed, “Hello, how has your day been going?”
Erik sighed deeply. She could tell by the tone of that sigh that he missed her as much as she missed him. “I can’t think of anything except seeing you again.”
She laughed huskily. “I’m suffering, too.”
“Where are you?”
She told him.
“Can you come to my office at noon?”
“Sure,” she immediately said, excitement coursing through her.
“See you then,” Erik said with a note of laughter in his voice.
They said goodbye, and she relaxed in the back of the cab.
Her mind was running ahead of her, wondering what he was planning. Surely not making love in his office? The door did have a lock on it. She laughed softly to herself, wondering when she’d started entertaining sexy thoughts like that.
When she got there Abigail Sinclair, Erik’s long-time secretary, a petite African-American woman in her mid-fifties, smiled at her and said with warmth, “Ana, it’s lovely to see you. How are you, dear?”
“Great, Abby, and you?” said Ana, returning her smile.
“I’m well, thank you. Go right in, Erik’s waiting.”
Abby was one of Ana’s favorite people. Married, with two grown children, she loved her job and she and her schoolteacher husband, Harry, doted on one another. Ana had observed them at several Whitaker Enterprises social events such as their annual Christmas party. Abby was invariably impeccably dressed in business suits and two-inch-heeled pumps, her long auburn hair in a bun, glasses either perched on the end of her nose or hanging on a magnetic clip on her chest. Abby was always solicitous but there was an added excitement in her hazel eyes today.
After Ana had been ushered into Erik’s office, she knew why. A representative from Tiffany’s was in Erik’s office. Two armed guards stood over by the window trying to look inconspicuous. But they all turned to look at Ana when she walked into the room.
The woman from Tiffany’s was in her sixties with wavy white hair that she wore in a pixie cut. She had bright blue eyes and when she smiled she revealed slightly crooked but white teeth. To Ana the fact that she hadn’t gone to the trouble of having her teeth made perfect-looking spoke to her belief that she didn’t need artifice to feel beautiful about herself. Ana liked that.
Erik smiled and met her halfway. “Sweetheart, I hope you don’t mind. With both of us pressured with business obligations I thought it would be more convenient if Tiffany’s came to us.” Taking her hand, he led her over to his desk where the Tiffany’s representative had spread a black velvet cloth and placed several engagement rings in their boxes upon it.
Ana was sure her face reflected her surprise but could not for the life of her fix her facial muscles to look any other way. “They’re all beautiful,” she said, her gaze taking in all of the diamonds. The quality of the stones was irrefutable. White diamonds expertly cut and polished. All of them were five carats or higher. Her eyes were not drawn to the large stones, though, but the beauty of the cut and how well the stones caught the light.
“Darling, this is Carol Richards. Ms. Richards, my fiancée, Ana Corelli.”
The two women shook hands and Carol said, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Ms. Corelli.”
“Likewise,” Ana said, smiling. She looked up at Erik. He smiled, his love for her evident in his golden-brown depths. “I was going to choose one myself, but I thought it would be best to get your input.” He gestured to the rings. “What do you think? Does one strike your fancy?”
Once again, Ana perused the rings. Square-shaped, pear-shaped, they were all beautiful, but the one that she liked the most was a five-carat solitaire in a platinum setting. She pointed to it.
Carol picked up the ring and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Ana gazed down at it, turning it this way and that, marveling at how the stone caught the light and the many colors that sparkled inside it.
“How did you know which size to get?” she asked Erik.
“I just described you to Carol,” he said.
“After years of experience, I’m a good guesser,” said Carol modestly.
“I don’t believe I’m saying this,” Erik joked, “but you chose the smallest ring. It’s okay to choose something larger, sweetheart. I don’t like to brag, but I can afford it.”
“This is perfect,” Ana said. She raised to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I assure you this is the one for me.”
“Actually,” said Carol authoritatively. “Ms. Corelli has a good eye for diamonds. The ring she chose might not be the largest, but it is the highest quality of them all. Pure white and although it’s nearly impossible to find a diamond without any faults whatsoever because they are a product of nature this comes close.”
Erik kissed Ana’s cheek. “And I thought you were being thrifty.”
Everyone laughed.
“Very well,” Erik said to Carol. “We’ll take this one.”
Carol smiled, her eyes twinkling as she looked at Ana, then Erik. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. I hope you two will be very happy.”
She shook hands with Erik, then Ana, after which she began packing up the remaining diamonds while Erik pulled Ana aside and hugged her tightly. “Now, if you should change your mind, you can always take it back.”
Ana looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Exchange it? No, never. This ring will not leave my finger, ever.” Then, they kissed.
It took Carol clearing her throat to tear them apart. “If you’ll sign here,” she said to Erik. Erik went over and quickly signed the form. He glanced at the final sales price and didn’t even flinch. “Thank you, Carol.”
“It was my pleasure,” said Carol who promptly signaled to the guards that it was time to depart. One of them opened the door for her and preceded her. The other followed.
When they were alone, Ana threw her arms around Erik’s neck in excitement. “You’re so sneaky. I thought you wanted me to come by f
or…”
“Love in the afternoon?” he guessed, his eyes alight with humor.
“Yes!” Ana admitted almost defiantly. At the time it had sounded like a good idea to her. “Don’t tell me it never crossed your mind.”
Erik laughed softly and smoothed her brow with the pad of his thumb, a gesture he was fond of doing, Ana recalled, just before he kissed her, which he did, long and passionately. When they came up for air, he said, “I couldn’t make love to you with Abby right outside my door. I’d never be able to look her in the eyes again.”
Ana left Erik’s office feeling as though she were floating on a cloud of happiness. And when she got home, she saw that someone had left a package at her door. Once she was inside she opened it. It was the Walter Mosley book she had admired in the bookstore window the night before.
Chapter 6
Etta James belted out lyrics to “I Just Wanna Make Love to You” as Ana danced around the living room area of the loft, supposedly cleaning. She wasn’t the neatest person in the world. When they were teens her sister, Sophia, used to say her bedroom looked like a tornado had hit it. Once she was living on her own, however, Ana had learned to pick up after herself. Now her house looked shabby chic. At least that’s how she liked to think of the juxtaposition of ultra-modern furnishings with antiques thrown in here and there. And the kitchen had recently had an upgrade. Now all the appliances were stainless steel, the countertops granite, and the floor Italian tile. Except for the two bathrooms, which had tile floors, the remainder of the loft had hardwood floors.
