Art of Deception (Contemporary Romance), Page 9

She ducked her head and spoke to her feet. “Jon thinks Max is a man.”

  Merrick hooted with laughter. “This Jon must be deaf, dumb and blind as well as terminally stupid.”

  “He’s not any of the above. It was a simple misunderstanding. He assumed that Max was male and I went along with it. Now it’s too late to correct him without making a mess of everything.”

  “Just tell him. It’s the easiest way to handle it. Tell him you were teasing and you want to come clean. If he doesn’t appreciate it, he’s a bigger idiot than I think he is.”

  “Willa seems to think he’ll be humiliated or angry and might shut down the show. She’s known him a lot longer than I have, and she threatened to kill me dead if I screw this up. It wasn’t a problem until he started asking me out and now, I think I have real feelings for him. It’s all so complicated and I don’t know what to do.”

  Tears stung her eyes and her voice had risen in timbre with every sentence, but when she quit speaking the only sound was the wind rushing against the sails and the prow slashing through the water.

  Merrick shook his head. “I can help you enclose your bathroom but I’m not touching the gender issue.”

  She sniffled and nodded. “I’ll take the bathroom.”

  ~*~

  Cautiously, Max rubbed moisture lotion onto her sunburned skin when she got back to the loft. Sailing in the Gulf was a pleasure she hadn’t indulged in for months and it had been an unexpected treat. Merrick had planned on sailing with his new police officer companion, Shel, but she’d pulled an extra shift so he’d come by to kidnap Max instead.

  A metallic knock sounded on her door.

  “Who’s there?” she called.

  “Jon, your humble slave.”

  “My slave?” She threw the door open, laughing.

  Jon arms were laden with a large portfolio and a briefcase. “Are you going to let me in?”

  She held the door for him. “What ‘cha’ got there, big man?”

  He laughed, dumping his load on the futon. “Big Man. That was the name of my first horse. I was eight and the horse stood sixteen hands high at the shoulder. I fell off him every time I mounted up.”

  “Somehow, I can’t picture you on a horse,” she said.

  “Believe it.” He turned to gaze directly into her eyes. “I’d never lie to you.” He held out his arms and she stared at him, wide eyed.

  “You can hug me,” he said. “I won’t bite.”

  She emitted a nervous laugh and stepped into his arms. I don’t deserve this. I’m lying to you.

  “I won’t bite hard,” He nibbled on her neck. “You’re so hot.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, I mean it,” he said. “Your skin is burning hot. Do you have a fever?”

  “I went for a sail and I got a little burn. It’s starting to be uncomfortable.”

  “Baby, if you were a steak, I’d send you back.” He trailed his lips gently over her shoulder. “I like my meat rare.”

  “Ha Ha. Very funny! I’m suffering and you’re laughing at me.”

  “Sorry, Millie. I can help you with that.” He went to her kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Do you have a tomato, even a can of tomatoes?”

  “I don’t think so. I have peanut butter and crackers.”

  “That won’t do.” He opened the cabinets one after another. “Do you have any vinegar?”

  “It’s over here with the art supplies. I used it to set some dyes.”

  “Let’s see it. Have you got cotton balls?”

  “What are you going to do with them?” She handed him the items he’d requested.

  He took off his jacket and folded it over the back of the futon. “Strip down and I’ll fix you right up.” He rolled up his sleeves.

  Max flashed him an irreverent grin. “Yeah, right. We’re not at the point in our relationship where I strip on demand.”

  His look was all incredulity. “I guarantee to put you out of your misery.”

  “I don’t want to die and I’m not taking my clothes off for you.”

  “Yes, you are. I’m going to take the pain out of your burn.”

  “With vinegar?” She made a face. “Vinegar is acid. Won’t it hurt more?”

  “Have a little faith. Now let’s have less clothing so I can properly administer the miracle cure.”

  “Just my shoulders,” she said. “They got the most sun.” She opened the top buttons of her loose cotton shirt and dropped it back to bare her shoulders. They glowed red except where the straps of her knit tank had been. She felt the instant cooling effect as the vinegar touched her overheated flesh. “Oh, that feels great.”

  “The vinegar is running. Take this off. I’m not going to take advantage of you. I’m a gentleman, after all.”

  “I know that. I’m pretty shy about baring my assets.”

  “As much as I’d like to get you out of your clothes, this isn’t the way I imagined it. Where else are you burned?”

  “My thighs.”

  “Let me see the thighs.”

  “No!” She took the vinegar drenched cotton from him. “I’ll do my own thighs, thank you very much.”

  “Shucks, little lady.” He gave her a one-sided grin. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Maybe I don’t trust me.” She applied the cooling liquid to her thighs and sighed in relief. “This is wonderful. How did you learn about this sunburn treatment?”

  “My grandmother. She’s got a million old family cures for just about everything from ringworm to dandruff. If we were living in a different time she’d have been burned at the stake. As it is, she’s like a homeopathic guru for everyone in their community.”

  “She sounds like an extraordinary woman.”

  “She’d love you.”

  Max felt a rush of heat, partly from her sunburn, but mostly from the tender look on Jon’s face. She cleared her throat. “What’s in the portfolio?”

  “Let’s check it out, shall we?” He opened the portfolio, sliding the contents onto the floor.

  “Oh, it’s my loft.” She pointed to the floor plan with some minor renovations.

  Jon spread out renderings of each elevation. The kitchen had been revised and the storage utilized more efficiently. The toilet was enclosed and a curved wall of glass block separated the bathroom from the rest of the space. The painting area was still located by the wall of windows to catch the north light. But there were racks for drying paintings and a storage area for supplies. In the far corner, under the skylight, the swan bed reigned supreme.

  “I wanted you to keep the moonlight,” he said.

  “It’s beautiful.” Max bit her lower lip. “I can’t believe you created this out of my big, open space. It’s like a cave now.”

  “You like it?” He grinned as he watched her reaction.

  “It’s amazing.” She turned to him. “You’re amazing.”

  “Not so much.” He brushed aside her praise. “This is what I do for a living.”

  “I understand. I get it, okay?” Tears formed in her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks. “I see how people feel when you change their living space.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet,” he said. “You deserve so much more than this. Millie, you deserve so much more.”

  On hearing him call her by her alias, the tears spilled over and she shook with sobs. Her dream relationship was turning into a nightmare.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jon looked alarmed. “Oh, Millie,” he said. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He took her in his arms gently, avoiding the sunburn and patted the small of her back.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m really sorry.”

  He shook his head helplessly. “You have nothing to apologize for. Please stop crying.”

  She pulled away, pressing her lips together to keep from losing it entirely. She ran behind the drop cloth to her bathroom area and splashed water on her face. She gazed in the mirror at her blotchy, red features, stopped up
nose and puffy eyes. How does Willa do it? How does she cry pretty?

  “Millie, is everything alright? Can I get you something?” Jon’s voice was rife with concern. She heard him pacing on the other side of the drop cloth.

  “No,” she whimpered. “I’m fine, really.” I’m just a great big fat liar.

  She held a damp cloth to her eyes. How could she lie to such a nice man? He was creative and talented in his own right and he admired her work. He was considerate and gave killer kisses. Jon was so sexy she wanted to bite his clothes off but that would never happen because she was a big fat liar.

  She blew her nose and gave her face one last splash of cool water before forcing herself to re-join Jon on the other side of the drop cloth.

  His face was all concern. “I found some water in your refrigerator. Are you feeling better?” He handed her a plastic bottle.

  “Yes, thanks, Jon.” She accepted it and took long gulps. “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to get so emotional.”

  “Your refrigerator, it’s from the seventies, isn’t it?”

  “It was here when I got the place. I was glad it worked, even though it’s hideous.”

  “So, do you like my designs?” He was gazing down at her with the puppy dog look again. It was the look that made her insides melt.

  Max licked her suddenly dry lips. “I love your designs. It’s like a dream loft.”

  “If you’re willing, I’d like to help you enclose your bathroom. If you like the glass block concept, I have enough left over from a recent project to build the wall.”

  “I like the idea of glass block. It’s perfect. It doesn’t stop the light but it provides a privacy screen around my claw-foot bathtub. I love it.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile.

  “It’s a place to start.” He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “I have to go out of town this weekend. I was hoping you’d come with me.”

  Max felt a panic attack coming on. This is when he wants to sleep with me. He’s taking me out of town to seduce me. She drew away from his touch. “I don’t think I know you well enough to go on a trip alone with you.”

  “We’ll only be alone while we’re on the road. I need to help my dad and I want you to go with me.”

  “Your dad?” She hadn’t thought of Jon with a family.

  He flashed her a grin. “Don’t worry. The only way you’d get to share a bedroom with me at my parent’s house is if we get married in a church somewhere along the way.”

  A smile curled the corners of her lips. “In a church?”

  “That’s the only way you can take advantage of me this weekend. And, for your information, the reason I’m keeping my hands off you right now is the sunburn.”

  Max experienced a feathery, suffocating feeling. Whenever he changed from joking to suddenly serious and gave her the ‘deep from the heart’ look, she felt the need to shed her clothes. Instead, she shrugged and spread her hands. “In that case I’ll go with you as long as we stay away from churches.”

  ~*~

  When Jon left, Max phoned Willa from the lobby. Her call went straight to voice mail. “Please come over. I’m losing it.” She hung up and trudged up the stairs. A deep baritone voice came up behind her singing a few bars of a John Legend song.

  “Hey, Sherman.” Without turning around, she acknowledged the deepest voice in her frame of reference.

  “Hey, Babe. Why do you wear such a long face and such red skin?”

  “My brother took me sailing and I forgot the sunscreen.”

  “And the long face?”

  “It’s complicated. I’m going to have a one-man show in a couple of weeks. Come see my new paintings.”

  Sherman let out a low whistle. “A one-man show? That’s a big deal. Where are you having it?”

  “It’s at Gilman Galleries in the Heights.” She glanced up at him. “Do you know it?”

  “Cherise Gilman, right?” Sherman shook his head, making his dreads dance. “That’s one stone-cold bitch.”

  They arrived on the third floor and she unlocked her door. “How so?”

  “She’d cut out your heart for a nickel,” he said. “Watch yourself.”

  She led him to the painting commissioned by Oleg Cantwell. “What do you think?”

  “Outstanding. Your work just keeps getting better and better. I like this one, too. It’s Willa.”

  She grinned. “I’m glad she’s recognizable.”

  “It’s nice, Max. You’ve got some real talent.”

  “Thanks, Sherman. That means a lot coming from you.”

  “What’s this?” he asked, spotting the renderings on the floor. Are you thinking of doing some remodeling?”

  “I’m...I’m dating someone who thinks I need to make some changes in my environment.”

  “This is a fine environment for an artist.” Sherman delivered a scowl before breaking into a wide, white-toothed grin. “Look at the north light.”

  “My brother agrees with him. He wanted me to come live with him because he says my place is depressing.”

  “Oh no, babe. This is a cool place. You got all you need right here...but I do like this glass block wall and the bed is majorly cool.”

  “Will you come to the opening of my show?”

  “Of course I will. I’d be honored.” Sherman demonstrated an elaborate bow. “Sure thing. The Shermanator will attend.”

  Sherman was a frequent actor in local theatre productions and occasionally lapsed into character mode. He examined the rest of her paintings and wandered back down to his studio, leaving the door standing open.

  With a heavy heart, Max attempted to get back into her painting. She picked up her brush and makeshift palette and sank down on her futon to stare at her latest work in progress. That’s where Willa found her when she rushed up three flights of stairs to arrive breathless, a look of concern on her face.

  “What’s wrong? You sounded upset.” Willa plopped down beside her.

  “I’m miserable.” Max tried to control the quiver in her lips. “Jon invited me to go on a road trip this weekend. He wants me to meet his parents.”

  Willa gave her a surprised look. “You’re kidding, right?” She raised her brows. “Meet the parents? That sounds serious.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You two are moving fast.”

  “No, we’re not. He doesn’t even know that I’m a painter and he doesn’t know my real name.”

  Willa crossed her arms across her chest and assumed a knowing smirk. “Awkward. What name shall we put on the wedding invites?”

  “Shut up right now.”

  “Can’t. I have to say that I think Jon is perfect for you.”

  “We’re polar opposites,” Max said. “We have nothing in common.”

  “How about that sexual tension one could cut with a knife?” Willa gave her a canary-eating grin. “You should just go with it. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

  “You’re not being fair,” Max said. “You said you’d tell Jon the truth before the show. What if he’s hurt that I’ve been lying to him? Or if he gets angry and cancels the show?”

  “That can’t happen,” Willa said. “We’ve come too far and you’ve worked too hard. The show opens two weeks from Saturday. If you can hang in for a bit longer, I’m sure this will play out as it should.” Her brows knit in an unaccustomed frown. “I’m almost positive we can work this out.”

  “Y’think?” Max gave her a skeptical look.

  Willa held up both palms. “You should have kept your distance until after the show. My goal is to make sure the show opens and that it goes over well. What happens between you and Jon is beyond my control.”

  Max tried to swallow the huge lump that had formed in her throat. “Mine too.”

  Willa glanced at the stack of renderings Jon had left on the floor beside the futon. She picked up the one showing the east elevation with the swan bed and drapery. “What is this? Did Jon design this for you?”

&n
bsp; “Yes. He thinks my environment needs improvement and so does my brother. Merrick wants me to move in to his place and paint here.”

  Willa giggled. “Tell Merrick I’ll move in with him.”

  Max cast a sad glance in her direction and sighed. “I couldn’t take the fall out.”

  Willa held up the bathroom sketch. “I love this. It’s like a Hollywood fantasy dream bathroom.”

  Max grinned and lifted a corner of the rendering. “It’s ingenious. He actually made very few changes. He would enclose the toilet and build a curved glass block wall part way around the existing tub. It doesn’t interfere with the light and it would be simple to construct.”

  Willa lowered herself to a less than feminine squatting position beside the renderings. “You should do it. It can’t be too costly. Maybe Merrick would help.”

  “How come all your conversations make reference to Merrick?”

  “I’m love sick.”

  “Mentally ill is more like it. I should know. I’m suffering from the same ailment.”

  “How come we’re fated to love men we can’t have?” Willa asked.

  Max rolled her eyes toward the skylight. “Or I finally find a man I can love and I lie to him until my tongue turn black.”

  “Eeuww! That’s not a pretty picture.” Willa turned down the corners of her mouth. “And it’s just one lie, maybe two.”

  “He keeps calling me Millie.” Max sighed again.

  “Lots of people change their names,” Willa said. “How hard can that be?”

  “I don’t want to be Millie. I’m the artist, Max Foster.”