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He swallowed hard. What would it be like to be part of her life? He mentally shook his head. It would never happen. It's best not to even think about it. She was not the woman for him, not in the slightest, even though his heart argued otherwise.
The bell jingled on the gallery’s front door. He glanced at his watch. It was early in the morning for a customer, but he’d welcome the distraction from his thoughts of the young, beautiful artist.
“Darling,” called Vivian Cline, “you must be here somewhere.”
“In the back.”
He carefully leaned a wrapped painting against the wall and walked toward the entrance. Vivian wasn’t quite the distraction he hoped for, but she’d do—anything to take his mind off Suzy.
His eyes widened the moment he saw her. Vivian was a vision in pink. Wow. She looked like a flamingo strutting her stuff. She wore a pink suit with a large pink feather in her sleek black hat. Even her heels were shocking pink.
“You look—” he started.
“Fab.” She waved her hand. “I know, darling. I always do. It’s a gift.”
She set her purse down and kissed his cheeks as the French did, only she wasn’t French. He bit back a smile. Vivian was back to her usual happy and confident self.
After her brief affair with Nicholas, she had been a complete basket case. Wailing for days how he broke her heart. She also cussed up a storm about him and wanted him banned from the art gallery.
Daniel tried, but legally, he could not do anything. Nicholas hadn’t broken the law, just her heart.
“I’ve come for Suzy’s painting. Even if that jerk didn’t want to buy it, I had my eye on it. I love the vivid yellow flowers in the sparkling vase. She’s quite talented," she said.
“I happened to agree," he said, reaching for a small painting set aside for Vivian.
“I can’t help but wonder who bought the other one so quickly. Not like she’s well known, and it barely was on display for less than an hour.” She smiled like the Chester Cat and ran her hand over her chin as if deep in thought. “It’s puzzlingly, don’t you agree?”
“You know I can’t share personal information about my buyers.” He crossed his arms. “It wouldn’t be ethical.”
She pursed her lips. “Most people love to brag about which piece they purchased with a hashtag from the gallery and artist. There was nothing on social media about it.” She tilted her head. “That’s odd, don’t you think?”
He swallowed hard, not liking where this conversation was headed. Vivian was smart and probably knew exactly who bought it.
“The person must have loved it, or perhaps the artist,” she said.
“The painting you bought is ready for you,” he said, handing it to her. "I’m surprised you’re here so early for it.”
“Well, I do love art. I'm drawn to this beautiful new artist like our mysterious buyer. Of course, I don’t want to date her, but I imagine the other buyer does.”
He rolled his eyes. So much for Vivian taking his mind off of Suzy. All she’d done since getting here was talk about her, how talented and beautiful she was. Vivian could be such a massive headache.
“As I stated, I cannot give personal information.” He crossed his arms. “It’s against policy.”
“Where are you going to hang it?” She faked a look of fringe surprise. “Oops, did I just suggest you are the mysterious buyer?”
She laughed. “To be fair you couldn’t take your eyes off her last night and the moment you saw her with Nicolas you put an end to it.”
“Vivian, I’m busy. I must excuse myself.”
“Pondering where to hang your new piece.” She winked at him. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ll show myself out. I hope you’re happy together.”
“You know I don’t date my clients,” he mumbled, walking to the back of the gallery. “Or artists.”
“Darling, you don’t date, period, but remember, my sweet Daniel, life is short. Grab happiness while you can. See you later.”
He glanced back to see the vision in pink flutter toward the entrance. Vivian Cline, quite the woman, an even biggerheadache. Why would she even think he’d bought Suzy’s painting? He groaned. Because he had. Her painting was at his home, waiting to be hung.
He sat on his grandmother’s elegant couch and sipped his cold coffee. There had been no way he would let Nicholas Prows buy it. It was too beautiful for such an awful person.
