Page 12 of California Sunsets

“Ah. Boswell, after the guy who wroteThe Life of Samuel Johnson?”

Erin blinked. Nobody ever got that. She swallowed and then nodded. Then she had to ask, “Have you readThe Life of Samuel Johnson?”

“Of course,” he said, looking a little incredulous. “He’s a fascinating character. I’ll admit I haven’t read all of Johnson’s works—the dictionary, for instance—but hisRasselaswas brilliant.”

Erin needed to sit down. Who even was this man?

Jay was clearly a reader. Funny he never shared that with others. She’d always thought he was such an oversharer, but now she wondered if he only overshared things he didn’t mind people knowing in order to hide things that he kept private.

Maybe Erin had been unfair. She’d made so many assumptions about him because he wore slick suits and was,in fact, a brilliant agent. He just went overboard sometimes by being tough and never taking no for an answer when he wanted something for his clients.

Fortunately, he didn’t leave her any more time to dwell as he guided them through the house. As she looked around on this third visit, she saw that more items had been delivered and arranged. How many people, from interior decorators to movers, had been involved to make this move so quick and so smooth? Just a few days since he’d received the keys and he was already perfectly at home. So many people who moved to Carmel-by-the-Sea hired an agency that furnished the place for them in an identifiable Carmel Beach style, but his pieces looked as though he’d picked them out personally, or at least accompanied the designer when they’d chosen everything. She spotted a Tessa Taylor-Davenport painting—one of the sea scenes for which she was becoming justifiably famous—hanging in the hallway.

Jay opened the door to the study and said, “I thought this would be a good place to be interviewed. If I need to reference anything, it’s all at my fingertips.”

She nodded, pleased to find herself in such a businesslike environment after a night worrying about how to be professional. But she melted when Jay excused himself for a moment and then returned with a bowl of water for the dog.

“Is it okay if I give him a treat?” He held up a pack of organic dog treats that Erin recognized from one of the many exclusive pet shops in Carmel.

She nodded and then said, “You have treats? You don’t even have a dog.”

Jay laughed. “I know. But everyone else in Carmel seems to have one. I see them walking on the beach. Plus, I’ve never seen so many stores catering to dogs. I had to go in and buy somelocally made, organic, vegan dog treats.” A wry smile played around his lips.

Erin knew he was making fun of her hometown, but it was gentle, maybe even teasing. She smiled back. Therewerea lot of vegan dog treats sold in town.

“Besides,” he went on, “I really do love dogs. I’d get one if I was ever in one place long enough. But, as it is, I get to enjoy dogs like yours. Right, Buzzy?” he said in an entirely different tone, rubbing the dog’s head, who nodded, his tongue hanging out blissfully, and then daintily accepted the offered treat. Buzzy curled up on the floor, delighted. Erin smiled. Her dog was a great judge of character, and she felt soothed that he was immediately drawn to Jay.

Jay said, “Before we start, can I get your advice on something? It’s about home decorating.”

She laughed. “Mila’s way better at this stuff than I am, but sure.”

“I think I just need a second opinion. Something’s not feeling right.”

Buzzy, who’d made himself instantly at home, curled up for a nap, so she left him in the study and followed Jay out to the garden, which was a beautiful, enclosed space. It felt more like a French or Italian courtyard garden than a place adjacent to the ocean. There were roses and irises growing, and a wrought-iron bench next to a splashing fountain. He pointed to a gorgeous, sinuous sculpture sitting on a column under an arch of roses.

“Is that a Barbara Hepworth?” Erin might not be the artist that her sister-in-law was, but she knew the famous Cornish sculptor’s work. She couldn’t even imagine what Jay must have paid for an original Hepworth. But she kept that thought to herself.

“It is,” he said, sounding pleased that she knew the artist. “I can’t find the right space for it.” He carried the piece around andset it near the bench, near the roses, dead in the center, talking all the while about how he would have a proper base made and how Barbara Hepworth’s work was so organic and worked so well outside.

He was right, of course, she knew that, but after looking at every spot he’d chosen, she finally said, “You know, I don’t think it works out here at all. It’s such a sensual piece, I think it belongs in your bedroom.”

As the words slipped out of her mouth, their gazes connected and a moment of heat arced between them. It flared bright and true and she suddenly dropped her gaze, embarrassed.

She knew she was right about the sculpture, but she wished she hadn’t mentioned the bedroom. Or the wordsensual. It seemed suggestive, as though the two of them might end up in the bedroom together engaging in sensual activity.

As if that could ever happen.

And yet Jay didn’t look at all embarrassed. In fact, he was now looking at her as if she were Einstein and had just discovered the theory of relativity. “You’re right. The bedroom. I never would have thought of it.” Then his expression changed again, softening with what appeared to be admiration. “Come on, let’s try it right now.”

Erin laughed, relieved to feel the tension between them dissolving into something more familiar. That was the Jay she knew: desperate to do everything yesterday. His enthusiastic impatience was infectious and she found herself joining him in all but running up the stairs with the Hepworth.

As soon as she walked into the bedroom, he looked at her with a huge grin on his face. “You’re a genius. An absolute genius.”

He moved one of the bedside tables to a blank wall opposite the windows and placed the sculpture there, and she nodded.“That’s it. That’s perfect.” She could imagine how the light would change, giving even more movement to the piece.

He stepped back and nodded. “You’re right. The sensuous lines are like the curves of a woman’s body. This is exactly the right space for it.”

He came a little closer to Erin and she felt herself take a sharp breath. For a second, she wondered if he was going to kiss her. But no. He just gazed at her earnestly for a moment and then quietly said, “You just see things the way they need to be. It’s a gift.”

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