Page 6 of Painted in Love

Adrian Fielding seemed suitably primed and the timing right. “Let me tell you why I’m here. After seeing San Holo’s work today, and also having studied it extensively—” He wanted her to know he was a serious collector who’d done his research. “—I’d like to commission a mural for the warehouse I mentioned. Since I have so many artists with studios there, I want something that shows we’re like an art colony.”

If she knew of Dane Harrington and Gideon Jones, then she probably knew of him, but she eyed him as though she didn’t. “Exactly what would you like?”

He gave her his vision. “I want a mural depicting artistic endeavors around the entire warehouse.” Dollar signs flashed in her eyes. As the agent, she would get a percentage of the commission. With a mural this large, that commission would be ginormous.

But she said casually, “How large is your warehouse?”

“A full city block.”

“That’s an immense project,” she said noncommittally, but oh yes, dollar signs definitely glinted in her gaze.

“San Francisco is host to a great selection of street art. That’s why I thought of San Holo for this.”

She studied him a moment, her gaze sharp. “You do realize how street art works, right?” After a short pause, she added, “Even if San agrees and you’re willing to pay the exorbitant fee for something like this, the ethos of street art is that anybody can come along and paint over it at any time.”

“I’m well aware of how street art works.” Then he laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past one of my own artists to paint over it.” Though he knew none of them would dare make a mark on San Holo’s work. No one would.

“It will be an astonishing amount of money,” she said with a smile like a cat ready to pounce.

It was his turn to smile. “I don’t care how much it costs.”

“Oh, the beauty of being a billionaire,” she said flippantly.

So she did know who he was. Obviously. She probably knew about his warehouses for artists too. “I admire his work.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’d love to move ahead with this as soon as possible. Of course—” He prepared her for the kicker. “—I need to meet the man. Mostly for Dylan’s sake. He’d love to speak with his idol.” He waited a beat, and just as Adrian opened her mouth, he added, “It’s part of the deal.”

She was silent for perhaps fifteen seconds, which, in a quiet office with barely a street sound reaching the high-rise’s windows, was a very long time. Finally, she said, “I could possibly convince San to do the work. But I can’t guarantee anything. It’s a massive project that could take months. I don’t know that he’ll want to give up that much of his time to one project.”

“I understand there are no guarantees.”

“In addition,” she went on, “San works only in complete anonymity. No one sees his work until its completion. You’ll need to provide lighting, because San usually works at night. As well as security to make sure no one peeks inside. Not even you.” She waited another beat of silence, then added her kicker. “But I can tell you right now, the in-person meet you want will never happen.”

With the amount he was willing to pay, Clay was sure he’d get what he wanted eventually. But for now, he said, “I can provide security to protect his anonymity. I understand that’s an important part of his mystique. No one will see the mural until it’s done.” He smiled, meaning it. “Not even me.” Then he stared her down. “But whether you make this introduction happen or not, I will find out who San Holo is.” He didn’t want to be an ass about it, nor was he threatening. But his mind was made up, and nothing would deter him. “I made a promise to Dylan that I’d make sure he meets his idol.” He held up a hand before she could speak. “It’s not why I want this commission. I’m doing that because I find San Holo’s work incredible.”

She wasn’t cowed, and she smiled as she stood. “All right. Let’s end the meeting here. I’ll present the offer to my client, but no guarantees.”

He stood and smiled in return. “You should know that when—” Not if but when. “—I discover who he is, Dylan and I will keep that secret. It’s only for the two of us.”

She actually batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m sure you have immense resources, Mr. Harrington. But then so does San Holo.” She stepped aside to let him precede her to the door before her final word. “I’ll let you know what my client says.”

“Thank you.”

He wouldn’t back down on his promise to Dylan. He was sure he could make the great man see that Dylan was worth his time.

Clay pushed open the door of Adrian Fielding’s building, stepping out on the San Francisco street bustling with businesspeople, shoppers, and tourists.

His gaze seemed to zero in on only one woman. A gust of wind blew her long black hair across her face, and she swiped it back as she sipped from her coffee cup. She must have just left the café next door. A tall woman, she was probably around his age, in her early thirties. Her long flowery dress fell to her calves, and her black tunic sweater combatted the blustery April afternoon, all the high-rise buildings blocking the sun from reaching Market Street below. She wore black leggings and heavy Doc Marten lace-up boots, but the flowery dress tipped all that black into elegance. Or maybe the elegance simply shone off her, her hair reaching to the middle of her back, its strands like silk floating in the breeze. Her pouty lips pursed to take another sip from her cup, and he made out her high cheekbones and long eyelashes as she drew closer to him.

Her body was like one long drink of water.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, people flowing around him, Clay found himself entranced. He had no shortage of women in his life, most of whom were far more interested in his money than in him. It was mutually beneficial, each of them getting something out of the short-lived relationship. They received beautiful trinkets, and he got, well, what every red-blooded American male wanted. When it was over, everyone left satisfied. Anything more than casual wasn’t in his game plan. He had too much to accomplish to let a relationship get in the way. Relationships, and especially love, were all-consuming, taking a person’s eye off the goal. So he’d steered clear.

But looking at her, this woman he didn’t know, would probably never know, he felt the first flutter of desire. Not just for sex, but for something more.

The thought was almost enough to make him walk in the opposite direction. He might have done just that if he hadn’t seen her sidestep a gaggle of giggling teenage girls. Maybe she was concentrating on her coffee, enjoying that next sip, or maybe she was daydreaming, because she veered close to the curb. The girls fanned out, pushing her even nearer the street, and to avoid them, she made a move to step into the road.

The oncoming car didn’t slow down, even with a pedestrian nearby.

He was about to shout a warning, but she never would have heard him over the city’s cacophony.

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