Hummingbird Lake (7 page)

“Well, um, yes,” his clearly uncomfortable dinner date replied.

Sage’s eyes narrowed to slits and raked him head to toe. Colt wondered if he should check himself for laser burns.

Her voice tight, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a public gathering. I saw the ad in the paper. I’m in town for a meeting.” He gestured toward the ill-at-ease woman at his side and added, “Sage Anderson, meet Melody Slaughter. Melody has visited Eternity Springs and she knows Bear.”

At that, Sage dismissed him, turned to Melody, and spoke graciously. “It’s lovely to meet you. Thank you so much for coming.”

Melody’s distress disappeared. Curious amusement replaced it as she glanced from Sage to Colt, then back to Sage again. Then with genuine warmth she said, “I’m so glad to be here. I want to tell you that your work”—she gestured to the centerpiece—“warms my heart and lifts my spirits. It makes me smile.”

Sage beamed with pleasure. She shot Colt a look just short of smug. “Let me show you a painting over here. It’s my favorite.”

She slipped her arm through Melody’s and led her away from Colt. As he watched the women go, his gaze dipped to the swing of Sage’s hips while his lips twitched with a smile. He sipped his champagne and wandered in the opposite direction, thinking he’d take a closer look at these fairies of hers.

The majority of her paintings sported tags marking them as sold. Appreciating that success, he lifted his glass in silent toast to her marketing acumen, then studied the work. He’d give her an A+ on effective use of
color and texture, an A on composition, an A- on originality. But where was the emotion? Where was the energy?

The Sage Anderson he knew could do better than this.

He moved closer to one work and read the label.
Pixies at Play
. How ridiculous was that? What was the difference between a pixie and a fairy anyway?

Not that he had anything against fantasy. Colt liked a good fantasy as much as the next man, but this work simply didn’t do it for him. He studied the painting in front of him, noted the tiny eyes and little wings peeking out from behind a pink hibiscus flower, and shook his head.
Maybe it’s a girl thing
.

Or maybe painting fluff is how she copes
. “Hmm,” he murmured to himself. Interesting idea.

Turning away from the paintings, he glanced around the room looking for both Sage and Melody. The crowd had thinned out in the few minutes they’d been here. He glanced at his watch. Only fifteen minutes left if they kept to the advertised time.

He didn’t see the guest of honor, but he did spy Melody conversing with an older couple. He wandered over to join her, and she introduced him to a local oilman and his wife. Colt learned that the couple already owned two paintings by Sage Anderson and had purchased another here tonight. “I smile every time I look at an Anderson,” the oilman said. “In this day and age, smiles are something to value, don’t you think?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Colt said, meaning it. That was the second “smile” comment he’d heard. Maybe he should give his position a bit more thought.

They made small talk for a few more minutes, and then the other couple took their leave. Melody turned to Colt and said, “I probably should be going soon, too.”

“All right. Why don’t we track down the elusive artist and say goodnight?”

It hadn’t escaped Colt’s notice that while Sage continued to work the room, she managed to avoid whatever section he occupied. He wished she hadn’t heard him express his reaction toward her work, but at the same time, her hostility intrigued him. Challenged him.

He positioned their approach so that Sage couldn’t see them coming and scoot away. Eavesdropping on her conversation, he discovered that she, too, was staying in a downtown hotel.
Well, now. That’s convenient
.

He smothered his grin when Sage turned toward them and her smile momentarily faltered. Melody said, “I need to get home, but I wanted to tell you I’m so glad to have met you. I would love to own a painting of yours someday, and that I absolutely plan on visiting your gallery next time we’re in Colorado.”

“Thank you so much,” Sage replied. “It’s been lovely to meet you, too, and I do hope to see you in Eternity Springs.”

She once again favored Colt with one of those fake smiles. “Have a good trip back to Washington, Rafferty.”

“Why, thank you, Sage. I so appreciate your good wishes.”

Colt took her hand, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it. “It’s been a revelation.”

She snatched her hand back, and Colt halfway expected to see her wipe it off on her dress. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he and Melody made their way back to her car.

“That was entertaining,” the lady observed as she slipped her key into the ignition. “I am so glad you accepted our speaking invitation, Colt. For many reasons.”

“I take it as a personal challenge never to bore my dinner dates,” he drawled. Melody laughed and pulled out onto the road, and Colt added, “Seriously, though, I appreciate
having had this opportunity. You’ve given me something to think about where the job is concerned. I can see that doing this sort of outreach might be effective for our team.”

She dropped him off at his hotel with the promise to stay in touch, and Colt watched her car pull away from the curb. After checking with the bellman for the address he needed, Colt decided to walk. It was a great evening weatherwise, with mild temperatures and only a gentle breeze. Strings of white lights hung in the trees lining the streets, and an active nightlife gave Fort Worth an appealing downtown. He’d always liked visiting here as a boy. It’s a shame he didn’t get here more often.

He arrived at his destination in under ten minutes, and he was pleased to discover a restaurant next door with outside seating. Colt ordered a beer and sat down to enjoy the evening and await Sage Anderson.

“You were a rousing success, darling,” Steve Montgomery said as he pulled his car to a stop on the side street next to Sage’s hotel. “Are you absolutely certain I can’t take you to dinner to celebrate?”

“I’m certain. I’d probably fall asleep in my salad.” Sage leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek. “Thank you again for everything, Steve. You are my hero.”

“I love you, too, dear. Have a safe trip home and I’ll talk to you next week.”

Sage waved good-bye as he drove off, then turned the corner to enter her hotel. She hadn’t lied about being exhausted, but she was always exhausted. Mainly she’d skipped dinner because after two days away from Eternity Springs, the walls of the city were closing in on her. And this was only Fort Worth, Texas. Imagine what she’d feel in New York. As nice as the reception had been—well, except for that one not-so-nice surprise—she’d
had her fill of people. Right now all she wanted was to hole up, order room service, and find her quiet.

Then a voice intruded. “Well, now. Isn’t this an amazing coincidence?”

Sage froze in her tracks. Colt Rafferty stood on the other side of a short iron fence marking a bar’s sidewalk seating. “No. I can’t be this unlucky. I can’t!”

He tossed cash onto his table, then easily swung his long legs over the fence. “Now that hurts my feelings.”

“Good. We’re even, then.” She started to brush past him and into the hotel lobby, but he caught her arm.

“Let me buy you dinner?”

“No, thank you.”

“C’mon. I want to ask you about your art.”

She gaped up at him in amazement. “I’m tired. I want peace and quiet. Why in the world would I let you browbeat me about my work?”

“I don’t intend to browbeat. I have honest, serious questions. This is your opportunity to show me what an idiot I am.”

“Now that has some appeal,” she admitted.

He grinned. “If you want peace and quiet, then walk with me down to the Water Gardens. It’s only a couple of blocks and it makes you forget you’re in the middle of a city. It’s a shame not to enjoy weather like this. Why don’t you go up and change and I’ll get the restaurant here to make us sandwiches?”

She hesitated, wondering why she even considered it, but finally agreed to go. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You won’t stand me up, will you?”

“While the idea amuses me, no.
I’m
not rude.”

Upstairs, she pulled on jeans, a knit shirt, and sneakers. The casual clothes immediately relaxed her, and she decided she was glad she’d accepted his offer. She’d intended to visit the Water Gardens on previous trips to Fort Worth, but she’d never followed through, mainly
because she seldom had free time during the day and she wouldn’t go into any park—no matter how closely patrolled—by herself after dark.

Sage took the stairs down and spied Colt waiting for her by the elevator. The man truly was hot. He’d been fine to look at wearing jeans. In a suit, he was
GQ-
cover-model pretty.

Seeing her, he grinned, and she decided that the wink of a dimple at the corner of his mouth made him dangerous. She’d always been a sucker for dimples.

He’d come up with a canvas backpack that he carried slung over one shoulder, and his suit coat and tie had disappeared. The sleeves on his white dress shirt were turned up, the top two buttons released. Despite her best intentions to resist his charm, her stomach did a little flip-flop.

“Ready?” he asked.

Sounds of laughter and music floated on the evening air, and they walked without exchanging conversation. By the time they approached the entrance of the park, Sage’s appetite had returned. “What’s for supper?”

“Turkey sandwiches.”

“Cool.”

Colt placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the Active Pool, designed as a canyon lined with rushing water. Rectangular stone blocks created a staircase of viewing platforms that allowed water to travel beneath visitors who descended to the bottom pool, almost forty feet down. Nighttime lighting made the spot breathtakingly lovely. “This is nice.”

“Yeah, it is. I love the sound of rushing water. It relaxes me.” He pointed toward the lower pool. “Would you like to go down there to sit and eat, or do you prefer it up here?”

“Here is good.”

He led her around the edge of the stone canyon to a
spot away from another couple and a family with two young children also enjoying the site. They sat, and he unzipped his backpack and handed her a paper-wrapped sandwich. “So, Anderson, talk to me about your work. Why fairies?”

“Why not fairies?” she fired back. “They are fun, fancy, fantasy. They play to my strengths as an artist. I get to experiment with color and motion.” She gestured toward the water spilling down the steps. “What has the architect achieved with this creation? Speaking for myself, his work inspires me. It soothes me. It speaks to my senses and it makes me smile. I’ve had people use those same words in response to my pixie paintings.”

He nodded. “I heard people say it tonight, that your work makes them smile.”

“That’s a wonderful compliment.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m not saying otherwise.”

Sage took a bite of her sandwich, then sipped from the bottle of water he’d provided. “No, you used the words
okay
and
nice.
”

“And
pretty
. I said they were pretty, too.”

“Careful there, Rafferty,” she drawled. “Your effusive praise will embarrass me.”

“Hey now. For a creative person, aren’t you being a bit thin-skinned? Isn’t putting up with criticism part of the job?”

She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Frankly, that depends on who is doing the criticizing and whether or not I respect him.”

“Zing.” He made a show of wincing.

“Look, I will admit that finances play a part in what I do. Making one’s living as an artist requires a measure of practicality to coexist with the artistic muse. I paint what I paint now because I’m building a brand that’s been well accepted by the art world. I’d be a fool to abandon it at this point.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yes, it does,” she replied, proud of the way she’d made her points.

She took another bite of her sandwich and focused on the water cascading down the terraces and steps below her. The effect was mesmerizing, and she could feel the tensions of her day melt away. She’d enjoyed the reception. She’d been thrilled by the positive responses and sales, but being “on” wore a girl out. It was nice to sit here and share a sandwich and trade insults with a handsome man. Almost made her feel mellow. “This really is a great spot.”

“I’ll show you the rest of the gardens after we finish supper. If you’re still talking to me, that is.”

Sage gave him a sidelong look. “Are you gonna make fun of my paintings?”

“Nope. But I am going to confess that I went to the reception tonight with the thought of buying one. I’ve thought about you a lot since September. I liked the idea of having one of your paintings hanging on my wall.” He finished off his sandwich, then added, “But I can’t do fairies, Sage. Or butterflies. Don’t you paint anything else?”

A vision of her nightmare paintings floated into her mind, but she firmly shut them out. “I don’t want to be on your wall, Rafferty.”

He waggled his brows. “Holding out for my bed, are you?”

“Very funny.”

He rolled to his feet and slung his backpack over his shoulder, then held out his hand to her. “Let me show you the other pools. The Quiet Pool at night is one of my favorite places in town.”

She put her hand in his, and he pulled her to her feet. He kept a firm grip on her hand as they crossed an open area to a pool with multiple fountains, and Sage’s artist’s
eye noted the visual illusion of a floor of tiles created by sprays of water collapsing in on itself. “How fun. It looks as if you could walk right across it.”

As they moved closer, their path took them beneath the spreading branches of oak trees. Away from the cascading water of the Active Pool, Sage now became aware of the squeaks, whistles, and croaks of birds in the trees above.
Must be dozens of birds
, she thought.

“Down this way,” Colt said, leading her toward a set of stairs that narrowed as they descended, the spatial change intensifying the noise made by the birds. At the bottom, a turn took them into a sunken garden where water flowed down angled walls and tall, knobby-kneed cypress trees ringed a rectangular turquoise reflecting pool like sentries. “Oh, the colors,” she murmured.