Chapter 16
Raine mingled with the guests at the gallery with a smile that felt strained and plastic. There was enough of a crowd to satisfy even André, and indeed, he seemed in his element. Far from the almost frantic wreck he’d been just yesterday, today he appeared the smooth, genial host. She wished for just a fraction of his poise. She wished, above all, that this night was already behind her.
Her parents wouldn’t be here tonight. They’d left almost immediately after she’d told them of Burnett’s arrest for the cruise her father had been planning. She didn’t mind. The knowledge that her mother was experiencing some rare good health was far more comforting than their presence here tonight would have been. Her brothers would come later in the week, on a night that was a little less hectic for her.
She hadn’t seen Macauley all day, although she’d been aware of the constant stream of people in the house. Trey had been holed up in the office with him, and so had some of the other men. She’d looked out the window once that afternoon, and seen men loading the van. She’d known they were carrying his things out of her house, and she’d dropped the curtain as a wave of pain had swept over her. The visual reminder of his withdrawal from her life was too much to bear.
When Harold had called and offered to send a limo for her, she’d gone in search of Macauley. She didn’t know what she had been hoping for, but she didn’t get the chance to talk to him. She ended up telling Trey of the plan, and he’d agreed to pass the information on to Mac. She’d dressed and left the house that evening without ever running into him once.
She wondered, for what seemed the hundredth time, if he was in that big a hurry to get away from her. She dreaded reaching home again tonight, to find it empty of him and of his belongings.
“The showing looks like a success.”
At the diffident voice behind her, Raine whirled around. “Greg!” she exclaimed delightedly. She took his hand impulsively and squeezed it. “I’m so glad you came.”
The man blushed to his receding hairline. Pushing his glasses up his nose with his free hand, he said, “Well, I appreciated your calling and inviting me specially.” He took a deep breath and looked at the floor. “Look, Raine, the last time I saw you I acted kind of like a jerk, and . . . Well, I guess I need to apologize.”
“No,” she informed him, “you don’t. You’ve put up with me when I’ve acted worse, remember? You’ve never lost patience with me no matter how long it took me to understand tax options.”
He laughed nervously. “But seriously, I wanted to tell you that our friendship is important to me. I’d hate to have anything happen to ruin it.”
“Nothing will,” she assured him.
“What are you two doing chatting while Raine is supposed to be the queen of this ball?” Sarah strolled up and scolded them. “She’s supposed to be schmoozing all these deep-pocketed guests into buying up every one of her paintings. That’s what I would do.”
“I’m afraid André is going to have to be in charge of that department,” Raine told her ruefully. “I flunked schmoozing in school.” Her gaze went past her two friends and caught a familiar sullen face. “Sarah, is that Joe?” It had been a couple of years since she’d seen Sarah’s brother, but she thought she recognized the young man who disappeared into the crowd as she spoke.
Sarah nodded without turning. “He insisted on coming with me. He’s learning to appreciate culture. Maybe there’s hope for him, after all.”
“Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I’m going to take a look at the paintings. I’ll talk to you later, Raine. Nice seeing you again, Sarah.” With those words Greg ambled away.
Sarah looked after him with raised eyebrows, then at Raine. “He seems back to normal, or at least what passes for normal for him.”
“Whatever he was angry about, he seems to have gotten over,” Raine allowed. “I’m glad. I would hate to be on the outs with him. He really has been a good friend to me.”
“Well, he’s not the only one who wants to see your latest masterpieces. I think there are several here I’ve never seen before. I’m going to wander. I’ll talk to you later.” Sarah strolled away.
Raine was stopped by a couple she recognized from the dinner André had hosted and politely listened to their praise of her work. Walking with them to a piece they’d expressed an interest in, she answered what questions she could before suggesting that they direct the rest to André. Her attention garnered by yet another couple, she smiled regretfully and took her leave.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal this talented woman away from you for a moment,” a voice said from behind her. She smiled in gratitude as Harold Bonzer offered her his arm in a courtly manner and strolled away with her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Not at all.” He patted her hand. “I can always tell when you need rescuing. You get this desperate look on your face, as if you’re planning your escape.” He eyed her with kindliness. “You’re not cut out for this kind of thing, are you?”
Raine laughed ruefully. “This is my least favorite part of the process, but a necessary one, I know. I’m just lucky that André can take up the slack on my behalf.”
“Don’t you worry.” He steered her toward a corner of the room. “Your talent speaks for itself. As a matter of fact, I’m no different from that couple I stole you away from. I wanted to ask you about this picture.” He stopped in front of the painting she’d done of Macauley.
She should have known that, having left the hanging of the paintings to André, he’d put this one in the most inconspicuous spot possible. But it seemed to fit here, somehow. She studied it, trying and not quite succeeding to see it without a prejudiced eye.
It was nighttime in the picture, and Macauley was standing in front of a window identical to the one in her bedroom. He wore only jeans, the button unfastened. His face was unsmiling. The darkness that filled the room shrouded him in shadows. He cast shadows of his own. He looked like an avenging angel come to earth. Her own dark warrior. The caption on the card she’d prepared for the painting read, Out of the Darkness. She’d painted him with all the emotion he evoked in her, and looking at the picture was always going to be a bittersweet reminder that he had refused her invitation to take that final step away from the shadows that existed in his soul. For the first time she questioned her wisdom in planning to keep this piece. The constant reminder of what she’d gambled, and lost, would do nothing to fill the void in her heart.
“This is a different piece for you, Raine.” Harold’s voice was mild as he surveyed the picture.
“André pointed that out to me,” she retorted. “But I did this one for myself.”
Harold eyed her shrewdly. “You’ve made a wise choice. Despite his toughness, he’s a good man. I’m an excellent judge of character, so take it from me. Don’t let this one get away.”
Raine smiled sadly and led him from the picture as others began to drift in their direction. “I’m afraid I no longer have a way to make him stay.”
Harold looked at her sharply, opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he looked across the room and smiled broadly. Bending closer he murmured, “Maybe you have more pull than you give yourself credit for.”
Mystified, Raine followed the direction of his gaze and was shocked to see Macauley standing across the room. Hungrily, her eyes drank him in. He was wearing his bank suit and looked a little rough, a little uncivilized despite the fashionable clothing. Then his eyes caught hers, and she felt a very physical jolt. Her mouth went dry.
“He just came in,” Harold informed her. “Something told me the boy wasn’t as foolish as you’d have me believe.”
“You’re misinterpreting his presence here,” she said shakily. She tore her gaze from Macauley with effort. “He hates loose ends, that’s all.” She should have known that he wouldn’t be so callous as to leave without a word. He wasn’t a coward. He’d see this through to its inevitable, heart-aching conclusion.
“We shall see,” the man said cryptically. “We shall see. Would you mind excusing me for a moment, Raine?”
She nodded, but her eyes had already moved back to Macauley. He was standing in front of one of her paintings, his hands in his pockets, his eyes narrowed in concentration. She wondered what he saw there, and what he was feeling.
She wondered why he was here.
Not attempting to resist the invisible magnetism of his presence, she began to make her way through the crowd toward him. She was stopped frequently by guests who recognized her and wanted to congratulate her on the showing. Before she was halfway across the room, Greg came to her side and said in an undertone, “André wants to see you in the office.”
She glanced at him, then toward the office. “All right,” she said reluctantly. Casting one last glance toward Macauley, she was shocked to see his ice blue gaze trained on her. His face was brooding, and he was studying her with the same intensity he’d given her paintings. For an instant, she was helpless to move. She was dimly aware that all her yearning was present on her face, for his hardened in response.
“Raine, he asked that you come now,” Greg insisted. He succeeded in capturing her attention, and the contact was broken. When she glanced over her shoulder as Greg led her away, her view of Macauley was obscured by the crowd of people.
As he watched Winters lead her away, Mac was aware of a surge of primal emotion. He didn’t like to see Greg put his hands on her. It wouldn’t have made any difference who it was. He was primitively aware that he didn’t want to see any other man touching Raine.
She’d looked almost unrecognizable dressed as she was tonight. He knew she was more comfortable in blue jeans and T-shirts than in the short, glittery red dress she was wearing tonight. But he couldn’t deny the effect she had on him when he saw her wearing it. Hell, if he was honest, she had a similar effect on him no matter what she wore. Or didn’t wear.
Bonzer had called the house earlier today and talked to Mac before he’d spoken to Raine. Mac had agreed to the idea of the limo. Surely Raine would be as safe in that as it was possible to be, especially since the older man had promised to send his own driver. There was really no reason for Mac to be here tonight. Burnett was in custody; Raine was no longer in danger. There had been a million details to tie up at her place today.
But he couldn’t stay away.
He’d tried to rationalize to himself that things just didn’t feel right to him yet. Despite Burnett being safely behind bars, there was still the fact that the man had an alibi for each and every time someone had physically threatened Raine. If Ramirez and Trey were right, and some of Burnett’s friends were responsible for carrying out the more physical threats, Raine could possibly still be in danger. Who knew where those culprits were right now? At least, that was the reason he’d given himself for not moving out of her house tonight, instead coming here.
But once he’d seen her again, he’d known he’d lied.
Whatever had pulled him here had nothing to do with her safety and everything to do with the power she had over him. He couldn’t let go, that was the truth. And the hell of it was, despite her earlier declaration of love, she was giving every indication of a woman who was willing to allow him to go. She hadn’t sought him out today, though she must have seen the men loading his things into the van. She hadn’t begged and she hadn’t pushed. She’d stood back and let him make his own decision.
Damned if he’d ever thought there’d come a day when he’d want a woman clinging to him, it would have been nice in this instance. Maybe it would have alleviated this gnawing sense of indecision, the edginess along his spine that nagged about details overlooked.
He elbowed his way through the crowd to go in search of her. But the mill of people had obscured his view, and he wasn’t certain which direction she’d gone with Winters. He found a corner to wait in and leaned against a wall. When he looked up, he was faced with his own likeness.
Shock rooted him in place. Seconds ticked by as he stared, stupefied, at the painting she’d done of him, without his ever having the slightest inkling. He pushed away from the wall, coming to stand before the picture for a better view. The instant he recognized the scene in the painting, his stomach clenched in remembered response. Though he’d been in her room many nights since, the night depicted here was the first time he’d made love to her.
His breathing grew choppy as he studied the painting. All the emotion that Raine had so freely offered to him was reflected here. She’d told him in a hundred different ways that she loved him, and it was on display, for the entire world to see. His gaze dropped to the caption, and reading it was like taking a punch to the gut.
Out of the Darkness. It could mean the treatment of night and shadows in the picture, but he knew there was a deeper meaning. He felt raw, exposed, yet strangely humbled that she had turned her awesome talent on him. The picture seemed to represent his last chance to leave the guilt and regrets aside and take what she was offering.
His throat tight, he abruptly turned and practically ran over a woman who’d come up behind him. Her sleek, dark hair was perfectly coiffed, and her dress tightly sheathed a curvy body. When he would have muttered his apology and gone by, she laid a hand on his arm to stop him.
“That’s quite a tribute,” she purred, indicating the painting with an elegant hand. “Do you know Miss Michaels . . . well?”
“Why?”