She stared at his mouth. All she heard was, “Naked?”
“You should be proud of yourself, Elizabeth. Anything else would be a crime.” He leaned toward her.
She saw the kiss coming and braced for it. Her heart raced. Oh, God …
His lips pressed against hers, his tongue pushed gently inside her mouth. He tasted of coffee and mint. She slid her arms up around his neck and pulled him closer.
And … nothing. No Fourth of July, no fireworks.
When the kiss was over and he drew back, he was frowning. “No good, huh?” He tried to smile.
Elizabeth was surprised. “I guess I’m more married than I thought.”
“Too bad.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet beside him. Then he held on to her hand and led her across the street.
They cut through the crowd, threaded their way toward the shop.
Elizabeth realized a second too late where he was taking her. She gripped his hand tightly and tried to stop.
He pulled her forward, not stopping until they reached the open door.
“Come on, Daniel. It’s a death-by-hanging in there.”
“Then put your neck in the noose; it’s what artists do.” He smiled down at her. “I expect big things of you, Elizabeth Shore. Now, get in there where you belong.”
She squared her shoulders and went back inside.
Marge smiled at her entrance, obviously relieved to see her. “I’m glad you came back.”
“I didn’t want to.” She forced the admission out. When she glanced at the door, she saw that Daniel was gone. “Chicken,” she muttered.
“It’s always difficult on the artist. I should have warned you.”
“Difficult?” Elizabeth said. “Difficult is making hollandaise sauce. This is a near-death experience.”
Marge laughed, then immediately sobered. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny.”
Elizabeth actually smiled. “I’m glad my humiliation is amusing. Maybe I’ll get hit by a bus later and you can really crack up.”
“You’ll be okay, Elizabeth. Don’t you worry.”
The bell above the door jangled.
“Oh, good,” Elizabeth muttered. She forced a fake smile.
Kim walked into the gallery. She looked pale and skittery; her gaze darted nervously from side to side. She was dressed in black lambskin pants and a black cashmere turtleneck sweater. Surprisingly, a scarlet pashmina shawl hung draped over one shoulder.
“Welcome to Eclectica,” Marge said.
Kim waved a hand dismissively and headed for the back wall. In front of Elizabeth’s work, she stopped.
“The artist is right there,” Marge said loudly.
Elizabeth came out from the corner. “Hello, Kim. You missed the group.”
Kim snapped open her purse, digging through it. “And I so wanted to spend more time with them.” She cocked her head toward the wall. “Are these your paintings?”
“Yes.”
Kim looked at them. For a split second, her gaze softened, and Elizabeth saw the longing in her eyes.
She knew how it felt, that longing. For years, she’d been locked inside herself, unable to imagine a way out. That was where Kim stood right now.
“I’ll take that one,” Kim said, pointing to the seascape.
“Sorry, the store has a policy against mercy purchases.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, as you and I knew would happen, I bombed today. The only thing less in demand than my paintings was the tofu-flavored ice cream. And Marge’s hors d’oeuvres.”
“But what’s a mercy purchase?”
“That’s when a friend feels sorry for the artist and buys a piece. No thanks. But I really appreciate the gesture.”
Kim looked at her. “You think we’re friends?”
“Of course we are,” Elizabeth said quietly.
Kim smiled suddenly, and the change in her demeanor was remarkable. “Take that painting down and wrap it up. And don’t you dare call it a mercy purchase. I want to hang it in my living room. Every time I look at it, I’ll remember that it’s possible to start over. You’d sell that hope to a friend, wouldn’t you?”
It was a lovely gesture; there was no way for Kim to know that it only made her feel worse.
Elizabeth took the painting down from the wall and carried it to the register.
To Marge, she said, “The price on this was wrong. It’s—”
“No way,” Kim said, barreling up beside her. “Shitheel left me loaded. Let me do this my way.”
Elizabeth longed to feel good about this sale, but she couldn’t quite make it over the hump. The painting hadn’t sold because of its beauty. “Okay.”
When Kim was finished paying for the piece, she turned to Elizabeth. “Will you be at the meeting this week?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe we could meet for dinner afterward? If you have plans, I completely understand. I know it’s short notice.”
“I’d love to.”
Kim actually smiled again. “Great. I’ll see you there.”
Elizabeth hung around for a while longer, watching tourists mill through the store. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.