the year before that, the one she’d accidentally left the half-price sticker on.
“I traced our family tree back to Polish royalty,” Doreen said. “This is our ancestral crest.”
Garek almost laughed. The Wisnewskis were descended from pure peasant stock and Doreen knew it. But he allowed no trace of his thoughts to appear in his expression. “Thank you, Doreen. How was your cruise?”
She coughed a little and her normal foghorn voice weakened. “The cruise was horrible. We sailed through a hurricane and I was sick the whole time. Karen was heartless—she reminds me of you. She had no sympathy for my illness. She lounged around the pool the whole time, flirting with the crewmen. I complained to the captain about allowing employees to fraternize with the guests…but never mind about that.” Her gaze sharpened on him. “I spoke to Ethel this morning. She said she saw you at the symphony with some woman. And at the art exhibit. And at the Cape Cod Room.”
“Ethel ought to be a reporter for the Chicago Trumpeter.” Garek half rose from his chair. “If that’s all, Doreen—”
“No, that’s not all, Garek Wisnewski! Who is this woman?”
Garek reseated himself, biting back a smile. “Her name is Eleanor Hernandez.”
“Hernandez—that sounds Mexican.”
“So it does.”
Silence fell in the office.
Garek leaned back, waiting for the explosion. Doreen had complained frequently about the influx of Mexican immigrants, ignoring him when he pointed out their own grandparents’ parallel circumstances.
Finally, Doreen broke the silence. “I’m glad to see you’re keeping up your end of our bargain.”
He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Our bargain,” she repeated. “To start dating a nice girl. Ethel told me she is a perfectly charming young woman.”
Garek made no response. At that particular moment, he was incapable of one.
“Ethel also said that she received an invitation to the silent auction for the art foundation. She told me—confidentially, of course—that her friend on the Social Register committee is very impressed by the foundation. He made a note when Ethel mentioned it to him. It’s possible I’ll be listed in the summer edition. Ethel said it’s going to press in a few weeks—”
“Doreen,” Garek cut her off. “I have to get back to work.” Ignoring her indignant sniffs, he escorted her out of his office, then returned to his desk and sat down, frowning. His plan to teach Doreen a lesson had gone crazily awry. But then, a lot of things hadn’t gone the way he’d expected in the last few weeks. Ever since he’d met Eleanor Hernandez.
His gaze drifted to the canvas hanging on the wall opposite his desk.
Woman in Blue.
He’d intended to give the painting to Ted Johnson—payback for the Lilly Lade painting—but instead, on some incomprehensible impulse, he’d ordered it hung on his office wall.
The painting had an oddly compelling quality. He stared at it, trying to comprehend its appeal, but without success. The random daubs of color, the splotches and squiggles didn’t make any sense—just like Ellie.
He couldn’t quite figure out what she wanted. He’d thought at first it was money, pure and simple, but she wasn’t very consistent about it. When he’d taken her to the art show and she’d admired a small ceramic vase, he’d offered to buy it for her, but she’d refused. Even more surprising, when he’d given her a raise, she’d tried to refuse that also. He’d disregarded her protests, but still, he found her actions odd. She must be after something else. But what? Publicity for the gallery? Definitely. But there had to be more than that. Something just for her. Fame?
Maybe. Although it was hard to believe that someone who could smile the way she did could be so calculating. When Ellie smiled, her eyes smiled also, and her whole face glowed. Warmth practically radiated from her. Sometimes when she smiled, he found himself liking her…like a friend. Although friendship wasn’t what he’d felt a few nights ago when he’d stood at her apartment door, looking down at that siren mouth of hers. He’d wanted to rip off her clothes, throw her down on the floor and make hard, sweaty love to her until neither one of them could move…
Hell.
He frowned at the painting on the wall, then bent back over the contracts on his desk. Going out with Ellie was business, an extreme measure undertaken to protect Wisnewski Industries. Once he’d closed the Lachland deal and his sister found out he’d tricked her, he wouldn’t need to spend any more time with Ellie. No more froufrou art shows or la-di-da