Dreams Claimed (Warfield's Landing, #1) (3 page)

They had purchased condos in the same building years ago, and Luke took care of Bentley whenever Daniel was out of town. Bentley was comfortable in either place, and Daniel was grateful. He had always wanted a dog and this arrangement with Luke made it practical.

Daniel was sitting in a black leather armchair, pulled up to the coffee table. Luke had moved things around so that he could rest his crossed ankles on the low table. He had one arm stretched along the back of the sofa and his other hand was playing with Bentley’s ear. Bentley was snoring.

Luke was grinning, his usual expression. In fact, Daniel secretly thought his good friend looked like a comfortable, grown-up Howdy Doody. Not handsome but pleasant. Women seemed to agree. Luke was also one of the nicest people Daniel had ever known.

Except now... when the ever present grin was taking on shit-eating proportions. With a sinking feeling, Daniel knew that Luke was about to trounce on him in some as yet unidentified game of one-upmanship.

“So...” Luke’s delivery was elaborately casual. “Have you found Audrey yet?”

Daniel narrowed his eyes. “No.” He was being rude, but didn’t care.

Luke’s grin widened and he reached into his shirt pocket with the hand that wasn’t petting the dog. He pulled out a folded and tattered brochure, tossing it across the table.

The paper landed in the green curry with a quiet plop. Daniel lifted it out, knocked it against the cardboard container to get most of the food off and looked at it.

“The Torpedo Factory?”

“Yeah, you know, down on the river in Old Town Alexandria...” Luke was using his “helpful” voice.

“I know where the Torpedo Factory is. Why did you give me this...” he looked more carefully, “class schedule?”

“Open it and look at the right hand column.”

Daniel unfolded the sheet, holding it by the corners while trying to avoid the curry, and looked as directed.

His heart stopped.

It was her!

The picture was small, the printing less than stellar, and smears of their takeout further marred the image, but it was her. The tiny photo displayed that lovely neck and the sassy hairstyle.

“Nic Bannerman.” He wasn’t aware that he had spoken out loud so Luke’s reply startled him.

“She has a studio there and teaches a basic drawing class in the evening.”

Daniel was calculating how soon he could get to the Torpedo Factory when another piece of paper floated across the table. This one landed in the Poh Tak soup.

Startled, Daniel swore. “Dammit, Luke.”

Laughing Luke waved a hand in the direction of the rapidly sinking paper. “Hey! I did you a favor. Take a look.”

Daniel had to do even more mopping on this sheet. As he blotted it with a paper napkin, he looked it over. It was in Luke’s handwriting and said — Gallery 22 with a DC address.

“What’s this?”

“I asked around... did a little research... she has a show there.”

Daniel looked at the address again... he could walk over from his office.

Teasing, Luke asked him, “Who loves ya, baby? I find her for you AND,” he stressed the word, “I find a way for you to meet her. I think you need to start collecting art.” Luke continued. “Go to Gallery 22 and buy something of hers... then ask if you can meet her. Maybe even set up an appointment to see more of her stuff.”

Daniel considered Luke’s plan. Something told him she wouldn’t be amenable to a stranger showing up at her studio and saying, “Hey! I’m Daniel Sterling and I’ve been in love with you my whole life. Marry me and have my babies.” He needed a strategy.

Using the Gallery as an introduction made a lot of sense. Buying one of her pieces also made sense. He could afford it, and the condo could use something on the plain white walls. He hoped he liked her stuff.

*****

I
t wasn’t until two days later that Daniel was able to get free during business hours. It had been a frustrating two days. He finally knew who she was and where to find her and he ended up stuck at work.

He was familiar with the world of contemporary art. CeeCee, his other best friend, had married an artist, and he’d made the obligatory appearances at shows and parties, offering moral support.

He saw art he liked and art he didn’t like. He had always been amused by CeeCee’s passion for art, but hadn’t understood it.

He glanced in the widow of Gallery 22. Okay. Pretty pictures. He could live with them, if necessary. He pushed open the heavy glass door and entered.

Looking around the large white space, he took in an attractive red haired young woman in the requisite “Artist’s Black” and nodded politely. Further glancing, he saw more pretty pictures. He started to move around the room. He stood at each painting long enough to be polite, and spent most of his time trying to read the signatures.

They were colorful and innocuous enough that he’d be able to live with any one of them, but none seemed to be signed “Nic Bannerman”.

Finishing his circuit put him at the desk, where the young woman was talking on the telephone. She ended the phone call with a vivacious laugh, then smiled at him. “May I help you?”

“I’m looking for work by Nic Bannerman. Is she showing here?”

Smiling, the young woman, Stevie — according to her name tag, walked around the desk and led him toward the back of the gallery. He saw a doorway and followed her through.

In that moment, for the first time, he understood CeeCee’s passion for art. On the wall across from him was a large, vibrant, colorful canvas.

He caught his breath.

He stared.

Hearing a faint buzz, he realized the young woman was speaking. He turned to face her. Looking amused, she repeated what she’d been saying.

“This is Nic’s latest series. She’s a former dancer and the focus of this series is ballet dancers. She has been working with the local ballet company, attending their rehearsals, sketching and photographing them.”

He glanced around, seeing numerous paintings, along with some sketches and other less finished works.

Stevie continued, “We’re the exclusive dealers for this series and this is a long term show. She’s still adding work. In fact, I talked with her today and she mentioned that she was in the process of preparing several new canvases. She’ll probably be delivering them next week.”

That got his attention. On a hunch, he asked... “Was that who you were just talking with?”

At her nod, he knew what his strategy needed to be. From the sound of the conversation, Stevie and Nic were friends. He’d need to impress Stevie so she’d give him a good recommendation with Nic.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll like to look around here and then maybe I can talk with you about any new paintings the artist will be bringing in?”

She beamed at him. “I’ll be at my desk. I’ll call Nic back and get more information about when she plans to bring in her new work.”

“That would be great!”  He smiled warmly. She left the room and he was free to look his fill.

If anyone had mentioned ballet pictures to him before this moment, he’d have imagined fluffy pink tutus, candy box pretty dancers, and toe shoes with ribbons.

Now, he was engrossed in the raw power of practice clothes, sweat, and looking at a close-up sketch of damaged feet... bloody and brutal.

He took his time, looking at paintings and sketches. He found everything riveting.

As he finished his circuit, he did a quick glance around, calculating the purchase prices. He made a very good living and hadn’t had any expensive hobbies... until now.

He, Luke, and CeeCee all had trust funds, but in high school, they’d made a pact not to be typical Trust Fund kids. As a result, his trust fund had been sitting there and growing. He knew the same was true of Luke and CeeCee’s.

Now he knew what he wanted to spend it on.

He loved every Nic Bannerman drawing and painting on display, but he was smart. He didn’t want to scare her off. He figured he’d buy enough to make a strong statement and get an introduction.

“Stevie,” he called as he walked over to her desk. “I’ve picked out a few pieces I want to buy.” Her eyes brightened. “Is it possible to have them delivered?”

*****

A
n hour later, he walked back to his office. Two small, framed drawings were under his arm and he had an appointment to meet the artist next week. The other paintings would be delivered tomorrow. He made a mental note to tell the concierge at the condo to expect the delivery.

His life had changed in the last few hours and he planned to enjoy the sensation. He’d get these drawings hung this afternoon so he could see them every day at work.

He hummed, mentally rearranging the furniture in his condo. It had all been placed to make the most of the large windows and the cityscape they framed. Now it was going to be set up so these paintings could be enjoyed. Too bad CeeCee was in New York for the next few weeks. He knew she’d love to help him play interior designer.

N
ic pulled up behind the gallery, putting her venerable mini-van into park. She was feeling rushed. She’d had to stop painting in order to deliver these paintings on the schedule she’d promised. Now all she wanted was to get back to work.

She was on time, but that wasn’t because of her organizational skills. In fact, it was pretty much dumb luck.

The drive from Old Town Alexandria into Washington, DC had been pleasant. She’d cruised up the George Washington Parkway and crossed the Potomac on the Fourteenth Street Bridge. Traffic had been light on this bright clear summer day. The middle of June, the summer heat was not yet oppressive and, better yet, the humidity was still bearable.

Nic hopped out, rang the bell beside the blank metal door and opened the van’s sliding door. It caught and she had to tug it open. She shook her head... she knew... someday it was gonna stay stuck.

Coming directly from her studio, she was in paint clothes — a large white man’s shirt fell to mid-thigh. The sleeves were rolled up and simple black shorts peeked from beneath the shirt hem. Her newest pair of canvas slides had been decorated with acrylic paint. This pair featured an Op Art pattern in an homage to the Sixties. She dressed for practicality and comfort.

Stevie had mentioned meeting someone who had bought some of her work last week, but Nic wasn’t about to lose most of a paint day to get dressed up.

If the guy bought paintings, he could meet the painter... with paint. She glanced down at the paint stained shirt tails, and shrugged to herself. She checked her hands. They had paint on them, too, but at least it was dry paint!

Her back to the door, she was reaching in for her paintings when she heard it open. Without turning, she spoke to Stevie, “I have five new pieces here today, but two others needed some final touches. I’ll bring them over next week. Can you give me a hand?”

She felt warmth behind her and movement beside her as a strong, masculine arm reached past her ear. The canvas she had been struggling with was carefully pulled out as she scooted out of the way. She opened her mouth to object — she didn’t let strangers handle her art, but sparkling blue eyes stopped the protest. She noted dimples, a square jaw—cleanly shaved, and a straight aristocratic nose. The eyes smiled at her and her gaze slid back to the dimples. Dimples. She had a weakness for dimples.

As she looked, the beautiful firm lips formed a sentence.

“Hi. I’m Daniel Sterling. Nice to meet you.” When she failed to respond, the smile widened and the deep voice asked, “Where do you want me to put this?”

With an effort, Nic pulled herself out of her trance and back into the real world. Some stranger was standing there holding one of her new paintings. She opened her mouth in protest, but caught sight of Stevie. Her good friend was behind the stranger, dancing maniacally and gesturing urgently — giving enthusiastic thumbs up signs.

Nic closed her mouth and looked back to the stranger, watching those luscious lips grin outright. She could even hear the laughter in his voice as he repeated the question.

“Where do you want me to put this?”

Nic scowled, gave herself a mental shake and said, “Stevie can show you where to put it.” She turned back to the van.

A short time later, she, GG - Gorgeous Guy—and Stevie were standing in the storage room of the gallery, her newest painting propped against the wall.

While GG was looking them over carefully, Stevie, always one of her biggest supporters, was oohing and aahing.

What WAS his name? He’d introduced himself... maybe? Maybe not.

She’d been lost somewhere between his blue eyes and sexy mouth, with a detour at the dimples. She liked dimples. REALLY liked them.

Stevie, mindful of her role as gallery representative, was ready to jump in if GG had any questions.

Finally, after an eternity, GG looked over at her and smiled. Had she mentioned she LOVED dimples?

“I’ll take all of them.”

“But...” Nic tried to make a coherent sentence. Her eyes locked with his and her ears buzzed.

It was Stevie. “Daniel.” Stevie raised her voice slightly, to get GG’s attention. “I’ll be happy to write this up. Let’s go into the office.”

GG, or was it Daniel?—winked at her, as Stevie led the way out of the store room. Nic hurried after them.

*****

D
aniel followed Stevie to the office. He hoped he hadn’t overplayed his hand with his little artist. Had he been too quick? He’d planned to be cool about everything. Plan A had been, Step 1 - Meet Nic, Step 2 - Charm Nic, Step 3 - Take her out for coffee, then, Step 4 - Ask her on a real date...

There hadn’t been a Plan B, let alone a plan to buy five paintings the first time he saw them. There was enough wall space in his condo for these and his purchases from last week, but if he continued like this, he was going to run out of room... fast.

He’d felt an immediate connection to this woman when he saw her across the Metro platform, but he’d never expected to have such a visceral reaction to her work. Last week, her paintings had grabbed him by the throat. Today, his reaction had reinforced that connection. And his response to her physical presence... well, it was off the charts.