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“I’ll return whatever doesn’t sell at the show, and I’ll design some new pieces as well.”
A quarter-inch of glass and one man’s stubbornness separated Emma from the glittering collection of jewelry she’d designed and crafted. Regaining possession of the necklaces, earrings and rings, embellished with diamonds and precious gems, was crucial to her plan.
“You can have whatever we haven’t sold in two months.” From his tone, he wasn’t yielding. Thomas had always been a stickler for rules. It’s what kept him in charge of Houston’s top jewelry store for the last ten years, and why she’d left.
With her heart crushed to the size of a peanut, Emma blew out a breath and decided she’d better come up with plan B if she hoped to escape her father’s marriage trap.
After leaving Biella’s, she decided to stop by Case Consolidated Holdings and retrieve her earrings. If she hoped to have enough to sell at the show, she might have to sacrifice some of her personal favorites. She would need the earrings Nathan took.
Standing in the elevator, she watched the floor numbers light up one by one in the display panel beside the door. Her stomach gave a little lurch as the elevator slowed. She smoothed her simple beige silk dress, recognizing the nerves behind the gesture. More than nerves, she amended. Her heart thudded almost painfully in her chest. Panic better described it.
Until that moment, she’d forgotten that she’d stood him up for breakfast on New Year’s Day. For the last few days she’d been so focused on her finances that she hadn’t considered how annoyed he would be that she’d dodged him yet again. But how could she do otherwise when she’d almost given in and let him have his way with her a second time?
Just thinking about him, recalling what he’d said to her, the way he’d known exactly what would drive her crazy, she was hot and ready for a repeat performance of their one time together. Of course, there wouldn’t be a repeat performance.
Emma entered the offices of Case Consolidated Holdings, immediately distracted from her mission by the original artwork hanging on the lobby walls. She stepped closer to one particular painting. Her eyes widened as she recognized the work of Julian Onderdonk, one of the most highly acclaimed Texas artists of the twentieth century.
He’d always been a favorite of Emma’s because his work captured the subtle beauty of south Texas. She’d encouraged her father to purchase three of his paintings. He’d hung them in his study and often remarked that although they hadn’t appealed to him when he’d first bought them, he came to appreciate the landscapes more every day.
“Can I help you?” the young woman at the reception desk inquired.
“In just a second.” Emma moved on to the next painting.
Adrian Brewer, she mused. Painted in the late twenties. Emma admired the field of bluebonnets that drifted off into the expansive Texas horizon. Someone with a discerning eye shared her appreciation for early Texas artists. Who was the collector?
“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist continued, her brisk tone disturbing Emma’s reflective mood.
Art always had a powerful, soothing effect on her, and right now, she needed all the calm she could muster.
“I think she’s here to see me,” a familiar, masculine voice replied.
Nathan came to stand behind her right shoulder, close enough for her to feel the tension in his muscles. The hair on her arms lifted as if she stood in close proximity to a lightning strike. She froze, dazzled by the effect the man had on her.
How easy it would be to lean back against him and be enfolded in his arms, to let him take away her worries and drown her doubts in deep, drugging kisses. She inhaled his scent, a subtle blend of sandalwood soap and lavender shampoo, and recalled how his hair had felt between her fingers as she’d gripped him tight and encouraged him to feast on her. A groan collected in her throat. She eased her eyes shut to capture the memory and hold it tight.
“I always considered Julian Onderdonk the master of the bluebonnet,” she said, grateful to hear the steadiness of her voice. Now if only she could count on the rest of her body to follow suit. “But after seeing Brewer’s interpretation, I might have to change my mind.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he retorted, clipping off the words with an impatience that banished her sensual daydreaming. “We buy purely for investment purposes.”
Emma’s eyes flashed open. She glanced up at his forbidding profile. He appeared preoccupied with the painting. Despite his grim expression, she detected a hint of softness in his lips. The gentleness vanished a second later as his flat, gray eyes slashed to her. Her pulse jerked.
