I Think I Love You!

by Kathryn Shay

  He surprised her by smiling broadly. “Wow. Is the rest of the house like this?” She’d painted murals on each wall in the foyer—a deer drinking from water, the pelicans soaring across the sky.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel like I’ve stepped into a painting.”

  None of her sisters had ever seen that.

  Raven flushed with pleasure.

  “I have to see the rest.” Without invitation, he walked to the entrance to the living room. Having no choice but to follow, she noticed he’d removed his sports coat and wore the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His trousers fit him perfectly.

  She joined him at the rim of the living room. Soft gray leather couches and white leather accent chairs had been placed in front of the fireplace which was made of gray stone. The whole space was light and airy. A whitewashed distressed wood floor spanned the area picking up the gray. On the wall were...

  “Are those your paintings?”

  “Yes.”

  He crossed to the one over the fireplace. Stared hard at it. Then gave his attention to the room again. Looked at a throw draped over a white chair. A wastebasket full of colorful silk flows. “The global effect of it is like a painting, but the little details make it even more so.” He laser-focused on her. “Did you do it all on purpose?”

  “I decorated on instinct. I never made the connection to a painting, but I love the analogy.”

  Now he crossed back to her. Jammed his hands in his pockets. “Why did you run out of the gallery?”

  She didn’t like his phrasing, but she answered nonetheless. “Things got personal between you and your fiancée pretty quickly. I felt like a voyeur.”

  “You could have waited in another section. I went to find you.”

  “And I was done for the day.”

  His eyes went from jade green to a lighter grassy color. “I don’t think that’s true. Was it the content of Audrey’s news that threw you?”

  Inexplicably, Raven felt compelled to answer. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Look, Blake, I made it clear from the outset that I didn’t want to get personal.”

  “You know we’ve strayed from that.”

  “We shouldn’t. I’m not comfortable sharing private things with you.”

  “It’s a bit like crossing the Rubicon. You can’t go back. I want to know why you were disconcerted by Audrey’s news.”

  “Forget it.” She started to walk away.

  He grabbed her arm and drew her back. Left his hand on her bare skin. “I want an answer.”

  She stared pointedly at his fingers gently grasping her. They were strong fingers. Masculine. She had a brief flash of them touching her everywhere.

  “Was it because you heard I was getting married? I already told you that.”

  She shook him off. “Of course not.”

  “Then what?”

  “Hell, Blake, how can you live under your father’s thumb like that?”

  Questions appeared in his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “He’s controlling your career and when and who you’re marrying. It’s medieval.”

  He sighed deeply. “I guess you could see it like that. But I never did. That’s how he lived his life, how all the Parker men did. I don’t disagree with tradition.”

  “I don’t understand that. It’s stifling. Limiting. Totally demeaning.”

  “Demeaning? Why? He loves me and is doing what he knows is best. I want to be the gallery head, and wouldn’t choose someone to marry he doesn’t approve of in any case.”

  Buried anger began in her gut and rose to her throat, almost choking her. Finally she got out, “It’s none of my business.” She stepped back and strode, a bit unsteadily, to the foyer. Opened the door. “I’d like you to leave right now.”

  He walked toward her purposefully. She guessed she’d insulted him enough so he’d go.

  But he didn’t leave. “What’s the real reason you’re upset?”

  “I’m not upset. I find your circumstances distasteful.”

  “You’re choking on emotion.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “Why, Raven?”

  “Just leave.”

  He stood there. Then, this time, he grasped both her arms. He rubbed the bare skin up and down. “Raven. Tell me.”

  Exasperated, she blurted out. “Your situation is reminiscent of what my father did to me all his life. And I hated it. I escaped all that at eighteen and put it behind me. Now will you please leave?”

  * * *

  Driven by something he’d never felt before, Blake stood his ground. “So your father picked who you had to marry in order for you to get the family money?” He didn’t even know she came from wealth.

  “No, the money is free and clear. He arranged seven marriages.”

  “Wow. Did everyone abide?”

  “Only two. As I told you when we worked on the bio, disaster struck with the oldest and he relented and canceled them all. But one of us had already fallen in love with her betrothed.” She sighed, a vulnerable sound. “Are you satisfied? Now please go.”

  “Why do you want me to leave so badly?” His voice lowered an octave and came out soft, coaxing. And very male.

  Running two hands through her hair, she released the knot at the top. “Because I’m upset.”

  Moving close, he tucked silky strand behind her ear, but let his fingers play with the locks. “This is so thick and richly colored.”

  She tried to step back, but he held her with his gaze. On her face was a flare of passion he’d seen before from women. “Raven.” He uttered her name like a caress.

  Her eyes widened. “This is so not going to—”

  Suddenly, his lips were on hers. She lifted her head for better access. He yanked her close. She secured her arms around his neck. Simultaneously, they pressed their bodies into each other’s. Mated with their lips.

  The kiss, turned hot…hotter and soared past hottest...

  Chapter 4

  Raven heard a gasp, then, “Oh, my goodness.”

  She wrenched away from Blake, and he stumbled back, dazed.

  Mariella said, “I’m sorry. The door was open. I’ll um, go wait in my car.”

  “No!” Raven dragged her sister inside. Held onto her hand, mostly to steady herself.

  Meanwhile, Blake had turned his back to the women. To compose himself, she guessed.

  Mari mouthed, “Sorry.”

  Raven shook her head. Still gripping Mari’s hand, she said, “Blake, you should leave.”

  He pivoted. He looked absolutely miserable. “I should.” He got to the porch and turned back around. “I’m sorry, Raven. I came to see why you ran out so quickly and I overstepped.” Then he strode to his car.

  Mari shut the door and turned to her sister. “You’re shaking. Let’s go sit.” Raven took a seat in the breakfast nook, which was bathed in afternoon sunshine.

  Mari said, “I’ll make you tea.”

  Raven stared out at the backyard, but only saw Blake standing before her. Coaxing her to admit things. Kissing her...

  She put her head in her hands.

  Her sister came back to the table. “Honey, it can’t be that bad.”

  “It is, Mari. It couldn’t be any worse.”

  “That was Blake Parker.”

  Raven nodded.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  Shrugging, she sat up. “He kissed me.”

  “I could see that.”

  “I...I allowed it. Participated in it. Hell, I probably encouraged it.”

  “You did?”

  “Even after I found out.”

  “Found out what?”

  She felt the acute angst from long ago rise up inside her. “His father runs his life. Just like Papá tried to run mine.” This time, Mari waited for more. “Blake Sr. withheld his son’s owning the business until he’s thirty-five. And he had to have approval over who Blake married.”
/>   “Blake’s married?”

  “Engaged. To the perfect woman.”

  “Things change for men.”

  “Not for him. You saw him. He was devastated by what happened between us.”

  “He seemed dazed. What, um, brought this on?”

  “We’ve been sparring for weeks. Then today, we had lunch together. We had fun, found we had some things in common.” She looked heavenward. “More than I knew, I guess, until his fiancée came waltzing in.” She explained the rest to Mari.

  “Wow!”

  “I didn’t even like him. But he gets my art, told me I could be as successful as Jackson Pollock someday, and you know how attractive that is.” She threaded back her hair, which he’d mussed. “Man, do I know how to pick them.”

  “Doesn’t sound much like you actually picked him.”

  “Things like kisses don’t happen accidentally.”

  “Of course they do. Circumstances occur and you find yourself in that spot.”

  Sisterly concern took over. “It’s not like you and Jordan, sweetie.” Mari had fallen for her professor...who was married and being blackmailed by his wife.

  “No two situations are alike. Jordan and I are dealing with our relationship just fine.”

  “Any news?”

  “It’s only been a few weeks since he asked for the divorce.” She smiled. “Meanwhile, we’re happy just seeing each other.”

  “I’m glad, sweetie.”

  “So, do you want to get out of this...thing that accidentally happened?”

  “No question about that.”

  “Then let’s make a plan.”

  “A plan?”

  “A kiss can be a mistake. You seem to think so. So did he. How can you go on from here?”

  “We have to. My show...”

  “Let’s decide what we can do so your show is not affected by this.”

  * * *

  Blake did what he always did when he was disconcerted. He went back to the gallery and dug into work. He’d let so many things go to concentrate on setting up the new wing and Raven’s show. Now, he made long-delayed phone calls, answered emails. Dealt with the minutia of running an art gallery. When he finally came up for air, he glanced at the clock. Six p.m. He usually picked up food then went home for dinner. Or he ate with Audrey.

  My, God, Audrey. He hadn’t let her into his consciousness since he left the lake. Now, guilt—ugly guilt—besieged him. He’d kissed another woman. He wanted...no, needed, to kiss another woman. But he loved his fiancée. So why had he done that?

  When he couldn’t find the answer, he picked up the phone.

  After a few rings, he heard, “Hello.”

  “Caleb. You don’t happen to be free now, do you?”

  “I can make myself free. You sound awful.”

  Blake hated asking for anything. “I am awful.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At the gallery.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Blake stood outside as Caleb swerved up to Parker’s entrance in his yellow Corvette. He exited and circled the hood. “What’s wrong, man?”

  “I need to talk. Let’s go...I don’t know where to go.”

  “Get in.”

  After Blake complied, Caleb drove to a nearby lounge where they often had drinks. He gave the keys to the valet and they went inside. A private corner booth was available and they took seats. Ordered drinks.

  “Tell me, buddy.”

  “I kissed Ravenna Marcello.”

  His friend’s brows skyrocketed. “Holy shit.”

  “I don’t even know why.”

  “Start from the beginning.”

  After the bourbons arrived, Blake described the events of the day. Caleb’s face was neutral through the whole recitation as he sipped his liquor and listened. When Blake finished, Caleb said, “Blake, let’s not treat this as if you committed a felony.”

  His friend’s cool calmed him some. “All right.”

  “You wanted to kiss a woman other than your fiancée.”

  “I don’t even know if I wanted to. I felt...driven to. Out of control.”

  Caleb gave him a small smile, which Blake knew he couldn’t quell. “And we both know how much you hate that.”

  “I guess.”

  “She’s pushed your buttons since you met her.”

  “These were very different buttons today.”

  Now Caleb laughed outright, then said, “They were.” He seemed thoughtful. “I guess the question is, do you want to keep kissing her?”

  “Are you kidding? And ruin my whole life?”

  “Your life as it stands today would be altered, sure.”

  “My father would disown me. The perfect woman for me would be gone from my life if I pursued this...attraction.”

  Caleb watched him.

  Blake’s gaze narrowed on him. “You’ve never approved of all that.”

  They both knew what all that meant. They’d argued about it for years.

  “No. But you get to live your life like you want. Everybody should.”

  “I was living it that way.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what can you do to make this right, with yourself and with Ravenna?”

  He’d been on the debate team at Harvard. He’d never had any hesitation when solving problems in his life. But right now, Blake had no idea where to start cleaning up his mess.

  * * *

  He started with an email.

  Dear Ravenna,

  I don’t know what to say about yesterday. I initiated the contact, and so I take full responsibility. I’ve betrayed you and my values, and I sorely regret both. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for acting so inappropriately.

  Best,

  Blake

  Blake,

  I won’t let you take full responsibility. I was equally involved in what happened two days ago. But as you say, our actions were regretful at best. Of course, I forgive you if you forgive me.

  Ravenna

  Dear Ravenna,

  The walls were painted this week. If you’d like to come in and see them, I’ll be out of the gallery tomorrow afternoon.

  Blake

  Dear Blake,

  The walls are perfect. Do you have a time frame for when the paintings will be hung? I need to be there for that.

  Ravenna

  Ravenna,

  The hangers can come April 5. We both need to be there. We have to discuss the lighting, too, which is crucial, so perhaps plan on April 5 and 12. I’ve attached the brochure proofs. Let me know if you want changes made. Thanks for your work on that, too.

  Blake

  Blake,

  April 5 and 12 will be fine. I spent yesterday morning with the brochure. There were a couple of spacing changes I’d like made, but other than that, it’s a go.

  Ravenna

  * * *

  Renata placed the call to Ravenna on April 4th, about seven o’clock Italian time. “Hello, darling. It’s your mother.”

  Her daughter laughed. “I know, Mamá. No one else calls me darling. How are you?”

  “Getting excited about attending your show’s opening. Are you excited?”

  “Terrified is more like it.”

  “The D.C. critics will love your work.”

  “Any special reason you’re calling?”

  “Yes. Your father got a call from Jim Manwaring.”

  “The president?”

  “Of course, dear. He wants to attend your show. But he doesn’t want to cause a stir.”

  “Does he know my background isn’t being used in promo?”

  “He does. Remember, Alexandra was reluctant to reveal hers at first.”

  “Mamá, of course he can attend. Though not opening night. The art world would focus on his attendance and not the work. Tell him any other night.”

  “What if he attends after about a week? The show’s up for how lo
ng?”

  “We’ve planned two weeks, but it all depends on the critics. It could last much longer, or only a few days.”

  “They’re coming ahead of time, correct?”

  “Yes. The night before.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “Oh, Mamá, some things never change. At this point, I don’t know. But I assure you I won’t embarrass you.”

  “You could wear rags and it wouldn’t embarrass me.”

  “Which is one of the things I love about you. The girls have agreed to come in twos so not to cause a stir.”

  “Yes, all seven of you together would eclipse the show as much as the president.”

  Raven waited for the next thing to come.

  “Now, why is there sadness in your voice?”

  “Is there? It’s probably the jitters.” If Mamá knew she’d been in a heated lip-lock with the uptight gallery owner, she’d be...fascinated. Mamá didn’t shock easily. But Papá would never understand.

  “Too early for jitters. Did something else happen?”

  “Nothing you need to know about.”

  “I take that as a yes.”

  Silence.

  “If you change your mind, phone me. I love you, mi figlia.”

  “Ti amo, Mamá.”

  Chapter 5

  Early on the day they’d hang the paintings, Raven stood in front of her closet and rifled through her clothes. Black shouted back at her. Except for the school clothes. And she wouldn’t wear those. As April had turned warm, she picked shiny black capris and put them on with mile-high black sandals. She found a blousy, red short-sleeved top, pleated in front, with a vee that would barely pass the censors if it was worn on television. Chunky wrist circles, a watch and big silver hoops finished off the outfit. There, she’d been true to herself in how she dressed. That she matched the room they would hang first didn’t escape her notice.