back.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! There must be over a hundred of them propped around the gallery. I’ve already locked it and am ready to go home. This has been a killer day.”
“You can say that again. Lois,” Sam whispered, “this is an emergency. I don’t have time to explain the details right now, but I can’t leave here without it.”
“Dr. Giddings won’t accept late work, Sam.”
“It wasn’t late. You logged it in yourself! It’s just that I’m in terrible trouble and have to fix something on it. I’ll bring it back first thing Monday morning. He’ll never know. If you’ll do this favor for me, I’ll give you that tablecloth I made last semester.”
Lois’s eyes rounded. “You told me you’d never part with it.”
Sam darted Mr. Kostopoulos a covert glance. “I—I I changed my mind.”
Lois followed Sam’s gaze. Lowering her voice she said, “Holy moly. You’ve been holding out on me. He’s incredible. I mean downright, knock-me-dead fantastic. Where on this overcrowded planet did you find him?”
“At my night job. Lois, please help me.”
“You really want your collage back that badly?”
“Yes. It’s a matter of life and death.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. In fact, Sam had the distinct feeling her life wouldn’t be worth the sum total of the scraps of paper stuck to her canvas if she couldn’t produce the desired note.
The bemused secretary sighed aloud and pulled a key out of the drawer. “All right. Go on in and get it.”
“Thank you!” Sam leaned over the counter and gave her a hug. “He’s going to help me look for it, so it shouldn’t take too long.”
With key in hand, Sam hurried down the hall, beckoning Mr. Kostopoulos to follow.
“What exactly are we looking for?” His deep voice reverberated in the darkness. She felt for the light switch on the wall, her heart thudding painfully. His nearness was starting to affect her that way, and the fear that she wouldn’t be able to pry the note loose without tearing it and the phone number to shreds.
“I-if I’ve done a halfway decent job, you shouldn’t have any trouble spotting it.”
“Is this a riddle of some kind?”
“Not exactly. It’s just that I’m hoping it will leap out at you.”
On that note, she found the switch which illuminated the gallery. Collages of every design and color, from white to psychedelic, filled the room, leaving little space to maneuver. Each one had to be three feet by four feet, therefore the unity of shape didn’t make their task any easier.
While she took in the enormity of the project facing them, a pair of unfathomable black eyes impaled her.
“I can already see a dozen projects which are fairly blinding me at the moment,” he growled with heavy sarcasm.
An imp of mischief not unmingled with fear made her want to prolong the moment of truth until the last second, but she supposed her last second was up.
“I’ll give you a hint. Mine will probably be the only one which will speak to you personally. That is—” Her voice caught, “if—as I mentioned earlier—I’ve accomplished my objective.”
His expression darkened. “We’re running out of time, Ms. Telford.”
“All right. I decided to create a collage of your office building.”
CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT do you mean, my office building?”
“Yours is the most beautiful one in the city, allgleaming cream with a royal blue motif. Since I work there every night, I decided to use it as the subject of my project. But I’ve filled it with people so it won’t look so lonely.”
One brow descended. “Lonely?”
“Yes.” By now she was busy looking for her design. “All buildings have an essence. Yours reminds me of a fabulous Greek temple, magnificent, but a little remote. I put people in all the windows to make it a happier place.”
Once again her tongue had run away with her.
But now that she’d met him, she understood why she’d felt those emotions. Like his building, he was aloof, yet magnificent. He was wonderful, in a scary, exciting kind of way.
When she discovered him staring at her with a strange look in his eyes, she hurriedly bent to her task, trying to pretend she was alone, but it was impossible to forget he was in the room with her.
Every so often she found herself casting him a furtive glance. He appeared to be studying each work of art with more than cursory interest. It shouldn’t have surprised her. A true art lover like himself could never remain indifferent, no matter the form. Many of the collages were bizarre, but she’d glimpsed a few which were true chefs d’oeuvres. Apparently he thought so, too.
Maybe she was a little nobody of no significance. But how she hoped he’d at least find her artwork outstanding. Then she chastised herself for speculating about foolish dreams when she knew his only interest was in getting the phone number off that yellow piece of paper.
What if it couldn’t be done? What if she couldn’t perform the required miracle?
Another five minutes passed as they continued to sift through the various canvases. Sam was beginning to wonder if her project was even in there when she heard Mr. Kostopoulos make a sound underneath his breath.
Her head jerked around in time to see him pluck one of the projects from a stack and hold it in front of him.
A smothered imprecation escaped his lips. “You made this with discarded pieces of paper?” His incredulity gave her no clue as to whether he liked her effort or not.
In a small voice she answered, “Yes.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Then, “Where’s my note?”
Sam supposed the gruffness in his tone was to be expected. After all, she had taken it from his private office, even if she’d found it on the floor.
“It’s in the top right window.”
By this time she’d come to stand next to him, and pointed it out with a trembling finger. She could feel his gaze studying her with a thoroughness that left her shaken.
“That’s my office.”
“I—I had no idea,” she defended. “But I’ll admit it’s an odd coincidence.”
“Is it?” he challenged.
Thank heaven Lois chose that moment to poke her head inside the gallery. “Have you found your project yet? I’m closing up now.”
“Y-yes,” Sam stammered. “We’re coming.
