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‘And I better warn you, I won’t accept any excuses.’ Her parting words were lost in the roar of the engine. Ali could see the grim concentration on his face as he drove off.
What had happened to him? And what did it have to do with the baby?
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS JESSIE wrote out her third delivery slip of the day, she saw the Cranford Art Gallery’s owner, Mrs Bennett, approach.
‘Well done, my dear,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember the last time we sold three canvases in the space of a couple of hours.’ It was the first time Jessie had seen Mrs Bennett really smile. The gesture made her look younger and even a little carefree.
Jessie found herself smiling back. ‘Thank you, Mrs Bennett.’
‘You know, you’re a natural at this.’
‘I think I’ve been lucky with the sales,’ Jessie said, cautiously.
‘I’m not talking about the sales,’ Mrs Bennett said. ‘Although, that is a nice side benefit. No, I mean, you know about art. You’ve got a good eye, my dear.’
Jessie found her chest swelling at the appreciation in her employer’s gaze. She’d been distracted since last night, thinking about Monroe and his artwork. Wondering if she even had the right to ask to see it. Would she really know if it was any good or not? But Mrs Bennett’s praise gave her a newfound confidence. Maybe her idea that she could make a career out of her appreciation of art wasn’t that ridiculous after all. ‘Thank you, that means a lot to me,’ she said.
‘I’m glad.’ Mrs Bennett leant forward. ‘Actually, my coming over to speak to you wasn’t entirely altruistic.’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘Ellen Arthur just rang to say she’s sprained her ankle.’
‘That’s dreadful.’ Jessie knew the other woman was the gallery’s chief sales assistant and part-time curator.
‘It’s not all that serious, but Ellen won’t be in for the next two weeks and I need someone to cover for her in the mornings. I wondered if you could come in?’
‘I’d love to,’ Jessie answered instinctively, then remembered her conversation with Ali that morning. ‘Oh, but I can’t—I’m supposed to be going to New York with my sister and her family tomorrow.’ After all, she’d come to America this summer to help out Ali and Linc. ‘But I suppose I could speak to my sister about it.’
‘Why don’t you call her, dear, and find out if she needs you there?’ Mrs Bennett sounded undaunted. ‘I’ll pay you Ellen’s hourly rate and it will be a good opportunity for you to look at the rest of our stock. I need some advice about what to hang now you’ve managed to sell ten paintings in the space of two weekends.’
It wasn’t until after she had confirmed with Ali it would be okay for her to stay in the Hamptons that it occurred to Jessie what else Mrs Bennett’s impromptu job offer would mean. She’d be spending a fortnight alone with Monroe. Okay, so he’d be in his garage apartment and she’d be in the house, but she had as good as issued an ultimatum to him yesterday evening at dinner. What would she do if he decided to take her up on it? That the thought was exciting as well as terrifying could not be a good sign.
Jessie was debating that fact when Mrs Bennett strolled into the gallery’s tiny office.
‘Is it all settled, then?’ she said.
‘Yes, I’m okay to stay.’
‘Excellent. Now, you’re needed out on the floor—a very attractive young man’s just strolled in. Either he’s penniless or he’s the first beatnik I’ve seen in twenty years, but, either way, it’s never wise to ignore a customer.’
Jessie was walking out into the exhibition space, contemplating what the next two weeks alone with Monroe could mean, when her mouth dropped open.
Monroe Latimer was standing staring at one of the gallery’s largest seascapes. His hands were tucked into the back pockets of ragged jeans, his head tilted to one side as he studied the work. He didn’t just look attractive. He looked mouth-watering—and ridiculously out of place in Mrs Bennett’s ritzy little art gallery. That combination of cute and dangerous could well be her undoing, Jessie decided as every nerve ending in her body stood to attention.
Taking a deep steadying breath she walked over to him. Challenge or no challenge, they were going to be the next best thing to room-mates for two whole weeks and she had to learn to deal with him. She also had the little matter of his artwork to work on, too. The perfect opening had just presented itself and she wasn’t going to be a coward and ignore it.
‘So, what do you think of it?’
As Monroe turned and saw Jessie standing behind him, his first thought was he’d made a big mistake. In the businesslike silk suit, her wild hair pinned up, she looked ridiculously prim and pretty. The urge to tug the pins out, feel the gilded flaming mass fall through his fingers, was almost uncontrollable.
He’d been offkilter, out of sorts the whole day, thanks to Linc and then Ali and even the unborn baby. It seemed the whole damn family was working against him, forcing him into a place he didn’t want to be. It made him feel trapped, but much, much worse, it made him feel wanted. He didn’t like it.
He didn’t know what impulse had sent him into town to see Jessie.
Somehow, the thought of seeing her had buoyed his spirits. Even when she’d messed with his emotions the night before, the tug of arousal had been there. That, at least, was familiar territory. Something he understood. But standing here looking at her he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t in control here, either.
