“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Good grief. You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“I wish that were the case. A ghost I could deal with,” he muttered grimly.
Payne handed him the book. “I just finished reading it. No one, and I mean no one, could have reached down into my soul to pull things out the way this author did. I’m talking secret thoughts and feelings here.”
His attorney took it from him and studied the cover. “There’s no doubt about it. The person who did this artwork used a picture or photograph of you. Let’s see the other books.”
Payne emptied the sack onto his desk. Drew examined the covers of all the books.
When he eventually looked up he said, “Every day of life your picture appears somewhere in the newspapers or tabloids. The public has free access. That means you’ll always be a target for unsolicited attention.
“But to find a painted picture of you on the cover of a book without your express written permission is a legal matter, never mind that the person responsible might or might not be a stalker.”
“So you don’t believe this could be a coincidence?”
Drew pursed his lips. “You have an aura that goes everywhere with you. Whoever did this painting caught your essence as well as the outer shell. I’ve a hunch this person has met you before, probably at your office.”
Payne agreed, still haunted by the story. “I doubt the artist and the author are the same person, but I suppose it’s possible,” he theorized. “Regardless, something needs to be done right away. My niece and fiancée are terrified.”
“With good reason,” his attorney came back. “I admit I don’t like this either.” His thick brows met in a frown. “Rest assured I’ll look into it first thing in the morning, then get back to you. I’ll take these with me.” He scooped up the books and put them in the sack.
“I promised the woman at the bookstore she’d get the four books back with my picture on them by Thursday at the latest.”
“No problem.”
Payne walked him to the north door which led to the pad where the helicopter was waiting. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“It was my pleasure. The sooner we find out if we need to call in the FBI, the better.”
As he closed the door, Payne wasn’t sure anything earthly could help. Not when the author knew things about him no one knew but God…
CHAPTER TWO
LORRAINE Bennett, known to most people as Rainey, had just set everything up to paint when her phone rang. It was only eight-twenty a.m.
Since she paid extra on her phone bill to avoid taking telemarketing calls, she figured it was Barbara Landers, one of the secretaries who worked for Mr. Goldberg, Rainey’s boss at Global Greeting Cards.
Barb was the same age as Rainey, and single. They’d hit it off the first day they were introduced. Since then they’d often eaten lunch or dinner together.
Through Barbara, who was a native New Yorker, Rainey had met a lot of her friends at weekend parties. A couple of guys had already asked her to other parties and films.
Ken Granger, another guy who lived in her building and was clerking for a law firm, had taken her to dinner several times. Rainey’s mother didn’t need to worry that her daughter lacked for a social life.
Stepping away from the easel, she walked over to her desk and picked up the receiver.
“Rainey Bennett Fine Art Studio.”
“Rainey? It’s Don Felt again.”
“Oh— Hi, Don!”
He was the head of the art department at Red Rose Romance Publishers. Only yesterday he’d phoned her about a new project, and had already faxed her the artwork sheets she needed to get started.
Between commissions from Global Greeting Cards and Red Rose, she had more work than she could handle at the moment. But of course she would never say no to a new project. This was her life and her livelihood!
“Sorry to bother you this early.”
“This isn’t early for me. I’ve already had my morning run in the park. What can I do for you?”
“Could you give me the name and phone number of the agency in Colorado you used for the male model on that sensational cover of Manhattan Merger?”
Her gaze clicked to the wall where she’d hung her oil paintings. Rainey was flattered that five out of the eight she’d done with him as the hero had already been sold to the authors who’d written the books featuring him on their covers. The ninth was in the beginning stages.
She had to admit those paintings were sensational even if she said so herself. However it was the man on the covers who made them so riveting. Rainey had only been the vessel to put him there.
“I didn’t find him through a modeling agency, Don.”
The artist in Rainey had been drawn to the face and body of a stranger whose rugged male beauty made her want to put him on every cover she did for Red Rose Romance.
It seemed the sales on those books had been phenomenal. The company had sent her red roses several times congratulating her for her excellent work.
Even better, the company had increased her salary to the point that she’d finally been able to move to New York and live on what she made doing artwork for them and the greeting card company.
“So—this masculine heartthrob who is setting hundreds of thousands of female hearts aflutter around the world is a figment of your imagination?”
“No.” She sucked in her breath. “I’m afraid even my psyche couldn’t dream up anyone that gorgeous.”
“Then he must be a boyfriend you’ve been keeping secret from me.”
She chuckled. “Don’t I wish. To be honest, I have no idea who the man is.”
After a slight pause, “Then how did you get permission to paint him?”
“I didn’t. About two years ago I saw him in a photograph. His looks were so incredible, I found myself sketching him every time I went near my drawing board.”
“Whose photograph?” he asked without preamble.
“My brother’s.”
“Do you still have it?”
“It was never mine to take. The only reason I happened to see it was because I was helping my mom clean his bedroom before he came home to go back to college.
“You know me and how I work. I often get ideas from people I see on the street or in a photo or some such thing. Later on if a face haunts me enough, I end up sketching it from memory.
“That’s what happened in this case. A third of the covers I’ve painted for Red Rose have been done without models.”
“I know, and there’s never been any kind of problem. Maybe there isn’t now.”
She gripped the receiver a little tighter. “What’s wrong, Don?”
“Possibly nothing. The legal department sent me a memo asking for the information.”
She blinked. “Legal department… Do you know what this is about?”
“Not yet. But since you admit you saw this face in a photograph, humor me and talk to your brother.”
“Don—you don’t understand. The man in that picture was simply one of a group of vacationers. Craig is a whitewater river guide. Every summer he takes dozens of groups on float trips down the Colorado, and always gets a picture of them at the place where they put in.
“This is his sixth year. He must have close to a hundred group photos lying in a box in his bedroom closet. I have no idea how old that picture even was.”
“Are they dated?”
“Probably. I wasn’t paying any attention at the time. He plans to open up his own sporting goods store one day soon and use them for wall decor along with trophy fish and elk he’s had mounted. He might remember something unique about a particular trip, but I doubt very much he could recall a name.”
“Will you ask him anyway? Then get back to me with the information A.S.A.P.?”
“It’s the end of June, Don. He’s been running rivers for the last three weeks. All I can do is leave a message at Horsehead Whitewater Expeditions. That’s the
company Craig works for.
“They’ll get word to my brother to call me, but it might take anywhere from a few days to a week before I hear from him.”
There was another silence that increased her nervousness.
“Tell you what,” Don murmured at last. “I’m going to contact the legal department and find out why they’re asking questions. Then I’ll get back to you. Will you be there for a while?”
“Yes. I’m finishing up the painting for the cover of The Bride’s Not-So-White Secret, and will send it over to your office by courier the day after tomorrow.”
“Excellent. I’ll look forward to seeing it. Expect to hear from me soon.”
After they’d clicked off, she returned to the painting in question propped on her easel. Unfortunately the reason for Don’s phone call had taken the zip out of her morning.
Instead of reaching for the brush to fill in the last bit of lace on the bridal gown, she walked over to the painting she’d done for Manhattan Merger.
There he was. The embodiment of her dreams come to life on a piece of canvas:
Rich dark brown hair that looked vibrant to the touch.
Nordic blue eyes that seemed to envision things no one else could even imagine.
Rugged facial features denoting a life of hard work, sacrifice and triumphs.
The build and stance of a conquerer beneath his business suit. Someone who dared to explore new frontiers.
A man who hadn’t yet been transformed by a woman’s love…
Perhaps because his total persona had enchanted her, she’d managed to breathe life into him. Enough life that she’d just been told this particular cover had taken first prize among all the covers on romance novels published by the various companies in the U.S. over the last twelve months.
The romance writing industry was going to present her with an award in August. Bonnie Wrigley, the author, would also receive an award for writing Manhattan Merger, chosen the best romance novel from the Touch of Romance line.
Much as Rainey was thrilled by this honor, she coveted this particular rendering of the man in the painting too much to part with it.
When Bonnie Wrigley had made inquiries to the art department for its purchase, Rainey had told Don it wasn’t for sale. But she’d urged him to tell Ms. Wrigley that if it happened Rainey was the artist chosen to do another cover for her, she could have that painting for a minimal fee.
The phone rang again. Rainey rushed to answer it.
“Don?”
“No. It’s Grace Carlow, the senior attorney in the legal department at Red Rose Publishing. I just got off the phone with Don and decided to call you myself.”
Though the window air conditioner worked well, Rainey felt perspiration bead her forehead.
“Thanks for getting back to me so fast. I have to admit I’m a little anxious.”
“After talking to Don, I think we’re going to be all right. Where are you?”
“Near Eighty-Sixth Street and Lexington.”
“That’s good. Can you be at my office by ten?”
Rainey’s green eyes widened. “You mean today?”
“Absolutely. The sooner we put out this fire, the better.”
That didn’t sound good.
“I’ll explain when you get here. Come to the second floor. Make a left. I’m at the end of the hall.”
The line went dead.
With heart pounding, Rainey showered and dressed in a straw colored wraparound skirt and pale blue cotton top. She brushed her gilt-blond hair which had been styled in a feather cut, slid on sandals and flew out the door of her furnished studio apartment.
There was no elevator, however the stairs were carpeted. She hurried down three flights to the entrance of the pre-World War II building, calling out hello to several people who lived there.
She’d been lucky to find a place this close to the Metropolitan Museum. Her rent might be horrible, and the landlord didn’t allow pets which forced her to leave her dog behind with her parents. However this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
If things didn’t work out and her commissions fell off, she’d go back to Colorado. But she didn’t anticipate that happening anytime soon.
So far the conversation with the attorney had sounded the only discordant note since she’d moved here four months ago.
After living in a small town all her life, she felt tiny walking between the skyscrapers. New York was like being in a different universe with every race and type of person represented. She loved the explosion of humanity amid the famous landmarks. Rainey loved the smells and sounds.
She loved Manhattan.
There was a pulse throbbing here. She was now a part of it. That’s what made every day exciting.
Until today.
Since the phone call she’d had this awful pit in her stomach.
What if she’d done something so terrible, her happiness would be taken away?
Fear made her walk faster.
She entered Red Rose Publishers and took the stairs to the second floor. After reaching the end of the hall she entered the legal department and walked over to the front desk.
“I’m Lorraine Bennett. Grace Carlow is expecting me.”
A young female receptionist told her to go on back to the first door on her left. Rainey complied.
“Good! You’re on time.” The attorney waved her inside. She was a tall, big-boned woman who was probably in her early sixties. She wore a white pantsuit with a black and white houndstooth print blouse. From the crown of her upswept blond hair she pulled down her glasses and studied Rainey for a moment.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“You don’t look a day over twenty-one. Lucky you. Call me Grace.” She smiled and extended her hand which Rainey shook. “Sit down.”
Rainey took the chair opposite her desk. “I take it I’ve painted a celebrity by accident.”
The woman made a funny noise in her throat. “Ever heard of the Sterling bank of America?”
She bit her lip. “Who hasn’t?”
“Ever heard of Sterling Shipping lines?”
Rainey’s body started to feel heavier in the chair. She nodded.
“Ever hear of U.S. Supreme Court Justice Richard Sterling?”
“Yes,” Rainey whispered.
“Ever hear of Senator Phyllis Sterling-Boyce? Ambassador Lloyd Sterling? Rear Admiral Daniel Sterling?”
Her eyes closed tightly for a moment. “Of course.”
By now Rainey was squirming.
Grace handed her a recent publication of World Fortune Magazine. “The whole lot of them don’t even count compared to this Sterling.”
Rainey took one look at the man on the cover and gasped.
King of Glass New York Billionaire-soon-to-be-Trillionaire Payne Sterling discovers ancient burial ground while mucking about with fiber-optic cable in his underworld kingdom close to Wall Street.
She read the caption twice before she studied the man in hard hat and jeans resting against an enormous cable.
Like pure revelation she understood why she’d been so drawn to him that she’d felt compelled to put his face and body to canvas.
“Oh boy.” Rainey’s voice shook before she handed the magazine back to Grace.
The attorney eyed her with compassion. “Oh boy is right. He’s the embodiment of one of the sons of the Earl of Sterling who left England for America to build an empire of his own.”
She tapped the cover. “This one shuns publicity like it was the plague of mankind, but he’s so damned attractive it still comes after him, innocently or otherwise.”
She winked at Rainey who groaned out loud.
“Cynthia Taft, the newest attorney to join our staff, handled Manhattan Merger while I was on a leave of absence. She came to us from Los Angeles and probably didn’t catch the likeness because Payne Sterling is a celebrity in a very different pond than that of Hollywood.
“When I returned, I notice
d his likeness on the cover and brought it to Claud’s attention. However he said not to worry about it because there’d been no trouble with the other covers. What was done, was done, and this wouldn’t be the first time an artist had unwittingly painted a cover that resembled a real person.”
“Except that I did draw his face from memory,” Rainey admitted.
“According to Don, you do that quite often.”
“Yes.”
“As I told you on the phone, I think we’re going to be fine, but it will take the rest of the day to prepare our case.”
Her pulse raced faster. “Case?”
“His attorney has already filed papers with the court. A judge is going to hold a closed door hearing tomorrow at two o’clock, so we have our work cut out.”
“What?” Rainey cried out aghast. “You mean he’s suing me?”
“You, the author Bonnie Wrigley and Red Rose Publishers.”
“Good heavens—”
Grace’s eyebrows lifted. “Don’t forget you’re dealing with a Sterling. The name moves mountains. But not to worry. He won’t win.
“By the way, who’s the person at Global Greeting Cards who will give us an affidavit to the effect that you haven’t put Mr. Sterling on any of their products?”
That was easy. “Saul Goldberg.”
She nodded. “I know Saul. Good man. All right. First things first. If we can get your mother and brother here in twenty-four hours, let’s do it. Red Rose will be paying their expenses.”
“Mom could come. But I don’t know if it’s possible to reach my brother in time.”
Grace eyed her intently. “Try. Mr. Sterling’s attorney, Drew Wallace, is the best there is if you know what I mean. He’s pulled this in the hope of catching us un-prepared, but we’ll show him.”
Rainey admired the other woman’s grit. Though she didn’t know anything about Grace Carlow, she had an idea the attorney was actually enjoying this.
“I’ll have to phone the company Craig works for and see if they can find him. My mother knows the number.”
“As long as you’re phoning her, tell her to bring that photograph with her. One more thing. Don said you do preliminary sketches before you start your paintings. Where are your drawings of Mr. Sterling?”
Manhattan Merger Page 3
