her door. The man was gorgeous, with his short dark hair and eyes as blue as the California sky. Better still, he wasn’t one of those insufferable men who knew he was handsome and expected her to fall at his feet.
He was older, too, which was a welcome change from some of those goofballs she’d dated in art school. Even though she’d just met Carter, Gillian liked what she saw. Not only his physical appearance, but the thoughtful way he talked to her and, even better, the way he listened.
She could feel his gaze on her now and it made the back of her neck tingle. He hadn’t thought she was a freak when she talked about how painting made her feel. He didn’t question why she was twenty-two years old and still living in her godfather’s house. He didn’t try to make a pass at her, which was a nice change from her usual encounters with men.
Not that this was a date. Far from it. Carter was simply the man who had bought her painting. The fact that he seemed so interested in Picture of Perfection was probably one the reasons she was so drawn to him.
Not that she’d mind a date with him. More than one, if she was honest with herself. She was definitely tempted to run her hands over a lot more than his tattoo. The man was the textbook definition of tall, dark and sexy.
“Herman, this is Dr. Carter Phillips,” she said, making the introductions. “He bought my painting at the charity fund-raiser last night.”
“Nice to meet you,” Herman said, reaching out to pump the man’s hand.
Unlike most people that Gillian observed, Carter didn’t wince at Herman’s powerful grip.
“I didn’t mean to be rude before,” Herman told him. “I was just so darn excited to see Gillian at the door that I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”
“Excited about what?” Gillian asked, perplexed by his demeanor. Herman looked as if he was about ready to jump out of his snakeskin cowboy boots.
“That gallery owner called,” he replied with a twinkle in his brown eyes. “You know, the guy who likes your horse portraits so much.”
“Jon Castello?” She’d met the owner of the Arcano Gallery at an art symposium last spring. He’d given a lecture and offered critiques for individual artists. To Gillian’s delight, he’d been impressed with her work. She’d been to his gallery a couple of times since then and he’d insisted on becoming her mentor.
“That’s the one,” Herman replied. “Anyway, he wants you to do a show at his gallery.”
Gillian’s heart skipped a beat. Her dream had always been to have her art on public display, but she’d never expected it to happen so early in her career.
“Oh, Herman,” she said, trying not to get too excited, “are you sure you understood him right? You know how you get phone messages confused sometimes.”
“I’m sure,” Herman affirmed. “I made him repeat it to me three times just so I wouldn’t get the message wrong. I think he was getting a little irritated. No offense, but I think the guy’s kind of a jerk.”
That didn’t surprise her. Like many artists, Jon could be temperamental and had a quick-fire temper. There were times that Gillian wondered if his interest in her was more that professional, but he’d never said or done anything inappropriate.
“I wrote down his number and put it on the desk in your room,” Herman continued. “You’re supposed to call him as soon as possible to set up a date for the opening of your show.”
Her show.
Gillian leaped into Herman’s arms, hugging him tightly. He’d always supported her art, even when she’d been plagued with doubts about how long she could keep her dream of an art career alive before she had to give it up to pursue another profession.
Now it seemed her goal of making a living as an artist was coming true even sooner than she’d planned. If it was a success…
Gillian shook that thought from her head, still not allowing herself to look too far into the future. She needed to take this rare opportunity one day at a time so she didn’t screw things up.
“Why don’t you go make that call to Mr. Castello,” Herman suggested, “while I offer your young man here a cool drink.”
A hot blush crawled up her neck. “He’s not my young man,” she said quickly, glancing at Carter. “He just came to see Picture of Perfection.”
Herman winked at Carter. “Seems to me we’ve got a picture of perfection standing right in front of us. Don’t you agree, Phillips?”
The heat burned her cheeks. “Herman, please.”
Her godfather chuckled as he turned to Carter. “It’s my goal to make her blush at least once a day. I hear it’s good for the complexion.”
“I need to go make that phone call,” Gillian said, eager to escape before Herman embarrassed her any further.
Herman liked to tease her, but he didn’t usually do it in front of strange men. She couldn’t help but notice Carter had avoided answering his question about her so-called perfection.
Gillian retreated to her bedroom suite, the walls plastered with her paintings. Most of them were of horses, although she had tried one of Herman and Marie a few years ago. It wasn’t very good and led to her decision to stop trying to paint people. She just couldn’t seem to capture them as well as she did horses.
Gillian found the message Herman had left on her desk and stared at the name and number scribbled in his bold, distinct handwriting. It was amazing how this simple phone call might change her entire life. She’d learned early that life was a series of sudden twists and turns, often leading in an unexpected direction.
Like the fire that had killed her parents.
She’d gone to bed that night the beloved daughter of Mark and Cara Cameron, then found herself orphaned before dawn the next morning.
It was all so long ago. That’s why she didn’t understand why she’d been having these nightmares lately. She hoped her upcoming gallery exhibit would keep her too busy to worry about the past. Her nightmares had become so disturbing, she’d even thought about contacting a hypnotherapist. Yet, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Some part of her was still hoping these nightmares would go away on their own.
As she sat down at her desk and picked up the cordless phone, she wondered what Herman and Carter were talking about. Hopefully, Herman wasn’t bragging about her as he had a tendency to do. That might drive Carter right out the door and she wanted the chance to tell him goodbye.
What she really wanted was for him to ask her out on a date.
“First things first,” Gillian murmured to herself.
Daydreaming about the sexy hunk downstairs wouldn’t get her any closer to her dream of a gallery exhibit. She just had to dial the number and let fate lead her the rest of the way.
Herman led Carter into the sunny kitchen, where the savory aroma of chili filled the air.
“What’s your pleasure?” Herman asked him as he opened the refrigerator. “I’ve got some good Mexican beer or do you prefer
