Page 105 of Close Up

“It’s more fun than selling hats, that’s for sure.”

Vivian was about to respond but at that moment the front door opened again. A slight hush fell over the crowd. Everyone turned to look at the new arrivals.

A tall, dramatically handsome man with shoulder-length dark hair brushed straight back from a sharp widow’s peak strode into the room and stopped just inside the entrance. He was not alone. A very pretty, very tiny blonde clung to his arm.

“About time he got here,” Joan said. “Come with me, Miss Brazier. I’m sure you’ll want to say hello to Winston.”

Not really, Vivian thought. But she dutifully followed Joan through the crowded room to where Winston stood surrounded by a group of admirers. Occupied with playing the role of the Great Artist, he did not appear to notice Joan and Vivian until Joan spoke.

“Winston, I’m so glad you could make it,” Joan said. “I was starting to think you might have been delayed.”

Winston made a show of turning toward Joan, his vampire eyes flashing with his trademark smoldering sensuality. He tried to pretend he had not noticed Vivian but she caught the faint telltale narrowing of his gaze.

He kissed the back of Joan’s hand and smiled his charming smile, the one that showed the dimple. “Miss one of your shows, Joan? Not in a million years. I understand you have some pictures by one of my former students on display tonight. I’m interested to see if she has made any progress since she left the classroom.”

Joan started to make the introductions but Vivian forestalled her.

“Hello, Winston,” she said.

“Vivian, darling, how nice to see you again.” Winston’s eyes glittered. “I understand you’ve had a rather exciting time of it lately.”

“Yes.” Vivian smiled at the blonde. “Are you going to introduce me to your companion?”

Winston frowned, evidently having forgotten about the woman on his arm.

“I’m Ginny,” the blonde said in a soft voice. “I’m one of Winston’s models.”

“I see,” Vivian said. “That must be very interesting work.”

“Yes, it is.” Ginny glowed. “I was the model for the pictures on display here tonight.”

Before Vivian could respond, Winston gave her an icy smile.

“Your photo of Fenella Penfield lying dead on the floor of her gallery was in all the papers. So you’re pursuing a career in news photography on the side? A wise choice, considering your lack of appreciation for fine art photography.”

There was a short silence during which everyone, including Joan, seemed nonplussed. Before Vivian could come up with a suitable response to the unveiled insult, Nick made his way into the circle around Winston. He had a glass of champagne in his hand. He gave it to Vivian.

“Here you go,” he said. He gave no indication that he had noticed Winston. “Figured you could use this.”

“Thank you,” Vivian said. “You’re right. I did need this.”

“By the way, there are ‘sold’ cards under all three of your photographs,” Nick continued in a conversational tone.

“Yes,” Vivian said, going for demure. “Miss Ashwood said they were snapped up by one of her clients.”

Winston’s brows rose in a parody of amazement. “Congratulations. I suppose it’s not surprising that there are a few people here in Burning Cove who are comfortable with your sentimental greeting card approach to your subjects.”

It seemed to Vivian that the entire room was holding its breath. She gave Winston a steely smile and reminded herself that the last thing she wanted to do tonight was escalate the situation into a scene that would embarrass Joan.

“Lucky me,” she said evenly.

Satisfied, Winston smirked and started to turn away.

Nick spoke into the breathless silence. “I don’t know much about art but I’m not surprised that the images from your Men series are outselling those old-fashioned pictures of naked women on the other side of the gallery.”

Stunned horror leveled the room. Winston looked as if he had been struck by lightning. His eyes stopped smoldering.

“You’re right,” he said with a savage smile. “You don’t know much about art. It’s always a good idea for a man to know his limitations.”

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