Page 21 of Loving Brooke

He turned back quickly and pulled her close. His mouth trailed soft kisses down her face. “What I feel when I’m with you, babe, is very real. There’s nothing fake about the way my body responds to you.”

His warm desire throbbed against her body. She was just about ready to burst into flames. “Gavin...”

“It’s okay. I know I have nothing to offer you that you don’t already have. I’m leaving,” he got out, his voice not quite steady.

Even before he’d reached his car, she’d closed and locked the door. Not to keep him out, but to keep herself inside the house.

She pressed her ear against it and waited for his car to start. Long seconds ticked by before she heard the soft purr of the engine. Only when it was finally silent outside did she breathe again.

That had been so close. She was shaking with need. Rubbing her face, she walked toward the kitchen. Tea. A whole pot. There wasn’t even a remote chance that she’d be able to sleep tonight; she may as well work. She had a week to do the packing for her move to the ranch next week. And there was a painting she had to change.

Halfway through the process of making tea, she stopped. What had Gavin meant when he’d said, ‘I have nothing to offer you that you don’t already have?’” He’d been strangely quiet after they’d been to her house. Something was bothering him, but what?

Oh, damn, she was still thinking about the man, and he’d left minutes ago.

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When Brooke’s phonerang late Thursday morning, she was still staring atThe Kiss. That’s what she’d dubbed the painting in her mind, anyway. Since Tuesday night, she’d been trying to change the painting of the two figures kissing, but all she’d succeeded in doing was to add a deeper shade of grey here and there. Her fingers and brush simply ignored any other messages from her brain.

Absentmindedly, she answered her phone. It was Sally Smith, the owner of the gallery in Livingston.

“Brooke, hello. I’m sorry to disturb you, but we have a situation.”

Brooked was still staring at the painting, but something in Sally’s voice caught her attention. “What situation?”

“We were unable to collect your two paintings from the gallery in Missoula. Bill Norton, the new manager, refused to give them to the movers who went to pick it up this morning.”

“But why? I’ve sent him and Lynda an email...”

“He claims he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“I don’t believe it!” Brooke groaned. She honestly didn’t have time for this. “I have new paintings I can bring you, hopefully before I move to the ranch next week,” she offered.

“I actually have buyers for those two specific paintings in Missoula,” Sally said. “I’ve advertised the paintings when I’ve let all my clients know we’ll be curating your paintings in future, as well, and I’ve had quite a few offers...”

Sally’s voice droned on, but Brooke wasn’t listening anymore. She honestly didn’t need an extra complication in her life. Her house looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane. Empty and half-filled boxes were all over the place; she was trying to paint and pack at the same time.

She’d sent the email to Lynda and Bill two days ago, but she hadn’t heard from either of them. Lynda, it would seem, was apparently somewhere in the Mediterranean, probably why she hadn’t yet heard from her, but Bill Norton had also been quiet. She probably should’ve checked with him again already, but with all the packing and painting, it had slipped her mind.

After finishing her call with Sally, she tried to call Lynda, but there was only a voicemail message to say she’d be out of reach for the next week.

She tried Bill Norton’s phone number. He picked up at the second ring. “Brooke, darling—”

“Why didn’t you give my paintings to the movers this morning? I seriously don’t have time for this.”

“You can’t expect me to hand over precious paintings to some random firm—surely you can understand that?”

Grinding her teeth, she tried to calm down. “I’ve always done it like this...”

“Well, now things are different. As I’ve explained to you before, I usually have close relationships with my artists and I can’t do that if I never see them.”

“First of all, I’m not your anything, and secondly—”

“You want your paintings?” he interrupted her.

“Of course, I do!”

“Well, then, I hope to see you soon!” The next minute, the line was dead.

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