by Nana Malone
Eli shrugged. “I happen to like the feathers. And you don’t have anything to worry about. She made her play. I turned her down. I prefer my manager to have a few more scruples.”
Jessica chewed her bottom lip. “I appreciate that.”
He shrugged. “Besides, I believe in an underdog.”
She made a noncommittal sound. “She has more experience.”
“She’s not you. I did my research. I only want the best.”
She gave him a small smile. “You don’t strike me as an alternative kind of guy.”
Eli laughed. “Wondering what I’m doing with you?”
“Kinda.”
“You make me feel something.” In a quieter voice he added, “I’ve been numb for a long time.”
“Okay, can I ask you something else?”
“Shoot.” She could ask, but he wasn’t sure he could answer honestly.
“What should I expect from your exhibition? We haven’t really discussed it, and I, uh, I’ve seen your show obviously. If you need anything else to, erm, perform, I should know.”
Eli’s skin prickled. He’d expected the question eventually, and he’d discussed it with Samson. That didn’t stop the guilt from worming its way around his intestines. “I paint.”
Her lips thinned. “I know that, but come on, I’ve seen your work. It’s dark and bold and sensual. But it’s the actual mechanics I’m struggling to understand.”
Eli sat back and shut his eyes. He’d seen Sam at work, and it was intense. He also knew how it affected every woman in the room. Even the women who pretended to be offended or shocked all got a flush in their cheeks and parted their lips. They thought he was hot. Jessica would think he was hot. Eli cleared his throat.
“I use a model as part of my canvas. I paint with her.”
Jessica expelled a shuddering breath. “Her body is canvas and brush. I’ve seen.”
Eli nodded. His lids fluttered open, and he turned his head to look at her. “Yes.”
A pink blush stained her cheeks, and he clamped his jaw shut to keep from cursing. She was thinking about him, Samson, pouring paint on a naked woman. Essentially making love to her with his hands and producing a piece of artwork with the paint. She was turned on. The air around them crackled like tiny sparklers had been lit.
This was how she would look at his brother in the next couple of weeks. If he kept lying to her, Samson would get this look. It wasn’t for him, Eli. There was nothing he could do to put this look on her face. “I’m obviously not having sex with the model or anything, but it’s about the illusion behind the silk screen.”
Her lips formed an O. Absentmindedly, she played with one of the skull rings on her fingers. “And we—uh, we should play up the mystique. The press will love it. Two of the art patrons I was talking to you about will literally fight over your work. I’m anticipating actual fists being thrown.” She cleared her throat. “Do you, uh, ever, you know, get to know the model?”
What the hell was she asking? “Sassy, spit it out.”
She sighed. “Well, it looks like you’re going down on the model.”
He blinked. Oh. He couldn’t help laughing. “I assure you, I’m not going down on the model.” He’d helped Samson with the act, and his brother assured him that he’d never actually been intimate with any of the models. In that regard, he was all about the work.
Her voice was high. “Good. That’s great. Let the patrons draw their own conclusions.”
“And you? How will you feel watching me work?”
Her startled blue gaze met his. Well shit. He’d already blown their little deal to not make things too serious. “Are you going to fight anyone over my work?”
Straight white teeth peeked out as she sucked in her bottom lip. “I’m likely to fight the model, but then every man in there would be watching us and not paying attention to your work. And that’s not what we want.”
He leaned into her. She met him half way. “Sam—” she started, then amended, “Eli, you hired me to do a job, and I’m going to do it to the best of my ability. And we are keeping this chemistry between us casual, but that does not mean I won’t be ready to cut a bitch if I see her hands all over you. Hell, I’m sure half the women there will be ready to kill the model out of pure jealousy.”
“Is that your way of saying you want me?”
“Yes, but you already knew that. The question is what am I’m supposed to do about that?”
Eli sat back. He’d said he would give her some room, and he would. “We have some time to figure it out. Why don’t you tell me why you hate Michael?”
Jessica pursed her lips. “Well, not much to tell yet. I have a PI looking into him.”
Ok. That was a surprise. “I take it Mia doesn’t know about the PI.”
“Are you kidding me? She’d flip out. Sometimes she can act like a hormonal teenager.”
Eli grinned. “You surprise me. I think I like this no-nonsense side of you. It’s hot.”
She shook her head and pale blonde hair swung over her shoulders. “You’ve met my mother. She has this way of only seeing what she wants in people. Most of the time it’s good, because she’ll give just about anybody a chance; sometimes a second chance. But can you see how that would also be bad?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I would have thought you were all down for the free spirited, love everybody vibe too.”
She snorted. “Don’t let the tats and piercings fool you. I’m still my father’s daughter. I generally see people for who they really are. And I keep my head straight. I’m whimsical sometimes, but I’m no airhead. Dad knew that.” She shrugged. “He figured I’d keep some idiot from stealing every dime he left my mom.”
“And I guess you’ve been doing a pretty good job of it.”
“Why don’t you let anyone photograph you?”
He shook his head, confused by the abrupt subject change. He shrugged. “Part of the mystique, I guess. I also like my privacy.” There. At least that part was the truth. Not like he could tell her he couldn’t let Samson’s past catch up with him.
“You’re going to have to get over the privacy angle. Once we have these exhibits, everyone is going to know your name.”
Eli ground his teeth. It was the risk they’d discussed. While Sam was rebuilding his career, they’d opted to keep a low profile on him. No need for the media to start a frenzy over his past before he’d had a chance to reestablish himself. Besides, Samson was more stable now. Even if his past caught up with him, it didn’t mean he would spiral down. Not as long as Eli was there. He changed the subject. “Enough about my privacy concerns. How’d a nice girl like you become an artist manger?”
She sucked on her bottom lip again, and Eli was riveted by the motion, the light tug of her bottom lip into her mouth. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.
Jessica toyed with the hem of her skirt. “Well, I’ve always loved art. Growing up, my parents’ house was almost as good as a museum. They had some renaissance and impressionist art, but they also had sculpture and pop art. They basically bought whatever they liked. They patronized the arts, gave money, supported new artists. I’ve been in that world my whole life.”
He frowned. “You ever give any thought to being an artist yourself?”
She shrugged. “The mind is willing, the body is not. I’ve just never had the talent.”
“Here’s a secret for you. Talent is in the eye of the beholder. You should see what critics have said about some of my early performances.”
“Oh, I’ve read it.”
He barked out a laugh. “And you wanted to represent me anyway?”
She gave a sharp nod. “Your work moves me. And it’ll move other people. You might have been a referral, but you are wholeheartedly my find. All I’d heard was that you used your paint in your performance art.”
“That still doesn’t explain how you got here. Representing a guy you’re not even sure you like.”
She grinned. “Well, I bounced a
long in college, and had no idea what I wanted to do with myself. Even when I started graduate school, I still had no idea what I was going to do. Then I got job as a photographer’s assistant. That’s how I met Izzy.”
He drew his eyebrows up. “Yeah, I know her work. I always thought Z Con was a guy.”
“Nope. So anyway, when her last manager left her in a lurch, I sort of took over, and she made me her full time manager. I figured I could spread out a little, so I started taking on some additional clients last year. It’s a better fit than anything I’ve tried before.”
“Well it’s in your blood right? The Stantons have a serious reputation in the art world.”
She shrugged. “But I’m not my family. I struck out on my own. I want to do this on my own merits. Yet this job is in an arena where it helps to have the connections. I used to feel guilty about it, but at the end of the day, if I can use what I have to do the best for my clients, then why shouldn’t I?”
“I personally don’t mind benefitting a little from your nepotism.”
She giggled. “So, are we going to sit in this car and pretend there isn’t a white elephant between us?”
“The one where we pretend we don’t want each other?”
She shrugged. “Yeah.”
“I was serious when I said I wouldn’t touch you again until you asked me to. Do you want me to touch you?”
She nodded her head emphatically as she said, “No.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You can see how that is confusing, right?”
She chuckled on a sigh. “Yeah. And I’m not trying to be a pain in your ass. I have a bad track record with guys. And I’m the one forever picking the wrong men. Either unavailable, or unapproachable, or unemployable, or just plain way too old.” She shook her head. “When I met you at the club, I thought…I dunno…I thought you were kind of straight-laced, maybe a little uptight. I thought you were an accountant type. A hot accountant type but still. When we met at the restaurant, I had the sex symbol Samson Marks in front of me. It didn’t gel in my mind. “
Eli mulled the thought over in his head. “I’m the same guy you met on both occasions. It doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes my perception. I’m used to being the girl who doesn’t have to think about anything. I jump feet first because I know what I’m getting into. Right now, I’m not so sure. It’s disconcerting. It feels like my man meter is off.”
Doesn’t help that I’m a lying asshole. “You can be into that accountant type of guy.” Art authenticator but close enough. “You can also be into the guy you met at the restaurant. Same person.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he muttered a curse. It was Vince, but there was no delicate way to take the call without exposing himself.
“You gonna get that?”
Eli considered his options. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”
“No, go ahead.”
“Yeah.” He kept his tone brusque.
“Eli, where the hell you been man? We need to talk.”
“Something came up. What’s going on?”
“Grab your gear, we’ve been called in.”
Eli sat up. “Is there a sig?”
“There may be. I need you to authenticate it. From my undistinguished eye, it’s a forgery, probably by our man. But I need my resident nerd. You coming?”
“Yeah, I’m coming. But it’ll take a minute.” When he hung up, Jessica looked at him expectantly.
“I guess show and tell time is over?” She gave him a rueful smile.
“Yeah I have to go. I’m sorry.” Then, feeling like taking a risk, he said, “So given that we can’t seem to stay away from each other, how about we have an actual date? For real this time.”
Jessica bit her bottom lip. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”
“You really want to keep fighting this?”
Jessica sighed. “Not like I could continue fighting even if I wanted to. I know what I want. But your career stuff comes first. I need Samson the artist more than I need Eli the man. Can you live with that? This gallery is my life. I’ve got everything tied up in it.”
That stung. But Eli hoped when this was over she could have both.
Chapter 12
Eli pulled up to the curb and eyed the stately Tudor style mansion. As he strode to the front door, he noted the gnomes on the AstroTurf grass in the yard. “I guess being rich doesn’t mean you have taste,” he mumbled to himself.
Ducking under the yellow tape, he followed the booming sound of his partner’s voice into what looked like the living room. The dark hardwood floor was dusty. He did a quick scan of the room. If this was a burglary, they might not be able to tell what was missing. On the ornate antique desk, stacks of paper and tchotchkes littered the dusty surface.
Eli stared at Vince. “You called me for a robbery scene, but how can you tell anything is missing? These folks are not exactly neat freaks.”
Vince smirked. “Tell me about it.”
“You want to tell me why I’m here right now?”
Vince nodded. “Yeah, over here.” He led him into a back office. “So the owner never would have even noticed, if his granddaughter hadn’t brushed up against the paint and noticed it was still wet.”
Eli’s blood ran cold. Another painting. His conversation with Michael Fenton was clouding his mind. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that Fenton either knew his brother or was intimately acquainted with Sam’s past. If Sam did know Fenton, then this string of suspicion had just gained more substance. The doubt crept in and wormed its way insidiously into his heart. He wanted to believe in his brother. Samson had had enough to deal with over the years and wouldn’t endanger his recovery. But you’ve been here before. Eli’s heart stuttered.
In the best circumstances, his brother was charming and engaging and people wanted to be around him. At his worst, that charm turned into expert level lying and manipulation. And sure, people wanted to be around him, but he attracted the wrong type of people. It had taken Eli five years to get his brother back, and the thought of losing him again made Eli ill.
In the center of the office, a Thomas Kane painting of a 60’s mod girl in tribute to Nancy Sinatra, sat on an easel. Thomas Kane’s work had come to prominence with Warhol. The two of them had run in the same circles. Rumor was they were also occasional lovers. Eli frowned as he approached the painting. “The color matching is exquisite.” Pulling out his glasses, he set his carrier bag on the nearby table. “The stroke work is almost an exact match.” Eli shook his head.
Vince whistled low. “This guy is good.” He peered at the painting. “I mean, you’re the expert, you tell me. Would you have known this was a forgery?”
Eli shook his head. That was what scared him. He quickly took a paint sample. “I won’t know until we test it, but I’d estimate the thief made the switch not more than 48 hours ago.” He looked up at his partner. “Do you have a timeline for the owner’s whereabouts over the last week?”
“Yeah. They were home. In and out, but it’s not like they were on vacation or something.”
“So it has to be someone with knowledge of the family’s movements.”
Vince nodded. “Whoever did the switch’s got a set on him, too. Old man was saying he’s had his grandkids in and out. They’ve been planning for their big anniversary party in two weeks.”
Eli puffed out a breath and examined the painting. Sam had said every forger he’d ever known couldn't help themselves. At the core of every forger was an artist waiting for recognition. Who for some reason didn’t have the talent or the imagination to create something new, but could copy flawlessly. Had the artist signed this one, too?
Then he saw what he was looking for. Exactly where he’d expected to find it. Carefully, he took his scraper and adjusted a pencil size amount of fresh paint. There, under the bold strike of blue. He saw the stroke of an etched bold S. His insides went icy. Samson. Blood rushed through his ears and his breathing sped to match his galloping heart. Samson.
His twin had lied to him. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Sam?
“Well? Is it our guy?”
Eli cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, seems that way.” What could he say? Vince was no moron. Eli might be the art expert, but his partner was like a dog with a bone; he’d discover what the signatures were soon enough and chase them down until it tied back to Sam. Eli would have to figure out some other method to protect Samson. He’d put his own life on hold trying to take care of his little brother If this forgery was Samson’s, Eli would risk it all again to save him. No matter the cost.
But maybe there was hope. He had to talk to Sam first.
“So what are you thinking, Vince?”
“I’d say the painting was worth, what, an easy quarter mil?”
More like three hundred. “Yeah about.”
Vince shrugged. “Well, given that the paint is so fresh, this was a well-timed heist, if you want to call it that.”
Eli nodded. “I have something for you, too.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed Vince the photo he’d taken of Michael Fenton. “This is the guy I texted you about. He’s Jessica’s mother’s new fiancé.”
“Jessica as in the girl you’re…” his voice trailed off.
“It’s a very long, complicated story.”
“Then why don’t you tell me, because if I’m going to put you under with his guy, I need all the details I can gather.”
Undercover? “You really think that’s a good idea? I’ve got him dead to rights weaseling into her mother’s life.”
“I need a little thing called proof.”
Eli cursed. He gave Vince the rundown of the situation, leaving Samson out of it as much as possible. He did tell Vince about Fenton recognizing him or thinking he did. When he was done, Vince gave a low wolf whistle.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“She’s gonna be pissed when she finds out you lied to her.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't really know until she starts burning all your clothes.” Vince laughed. “You got an exit plan?”
