the doorway of her office. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in jail.”
He hunkered down next to her. “I got out early for good behavior. I only have to report to my parole officer once a week.”
“That…that’s great.” With an effort, Ellie tried to put aside her emotional turmoil and concentrate on Robbie. He looked thinner than she remembered, and his skin had a slightly sallow cast—but his hands twitched with the same restless energy, and when she sniffled, she caught the scent of Old Spice, the cologne he’d always favored. “Have you seen Aunt Alma and Uncle Rodrigo yet?”
“Not yet. I’m not so sure they’ll want to see me.”
“Of course they will,” she said automatically, although, secretly, she wasn’t so sure about Uncle Rodrigo—he’d been extremely angry when his son got arrested. “How are you doing, Robbie?”
“Good. I’ve been clean for the last six months.”
“That’s great. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, El. But never mind about me. Why were you crying?” His big brown eyes, so like Martina’s, were full of concern.
Ellie’s shaky composure threatened to crumple under his inquiring look. She tried to smile. “Nothing, really. I was just upset about…something to do with the gallery.”
“Are you crying over that Wisnewski guy?”
Ellie straightened abruptly. “Where’d you hear about him?”
“Martina said you’re in love with him.”
“Martina told you that!”
“Yeah. I called your apartment this morning and talked to her a while. She told me all about you and Wisnewski.”
Ellie wished they would have talked about something else. Didn’t Martina know by now not to say anything about Ellie’s love life to Robbie? “Well, it’s not true.”
He looked as though he didn’t believe her.
“Really,” she insisted, wiping the tears from her face. “Oh, maybe I thought I was for a minute or two, but now I know I was mistaken.”
He was still staring at her, a frown on his face. “I’ve never seen you cry over a man before—not even that jerk Rafe.”
“Robbie, this is ridiculous.” She stood up. “I don’t want to talk about Garek Wisnewski anymore.”
Cracking his knuckles, Robbie stood also. “He hurt you.”
“Yes…I mean, no, not really,” she said, alarmed. She remembered what had happened the last time Robbie got that look in his eyes. He’d always been way too protective. “Don’t worry. I can handle my love life. Hadn’t you better go see your parents?”
The bloodlust died out of his eyes and he shuffled his feet. “Ellie, I hate to bother you when your heart is broken and all—”
“It’s not broken!”
“—but I don’t know if my father will let me in the house,” Robbie said, ignoring her interruption. “I have a friend who’s going out of town and he said I could stay at his place starting tomorrow. But tonight…”
“You’re welcome to stay with me,” she said. “Martina’s going to be gone—I’m sure she won’t mind if you use her room.”
“Thanks, El—you’re the best. Oh, and one more thing. I have a friend—another friend. He wants to be an artist. He’s really talented…”
Ellie’s heart sank a little. “Did you meet this friend in prison?”
“Yeah, he got busted for some pyramid scheme. But he’s completely reformed—he’s a real smart guy. He’s taken every mailorder course there is. If you ever need an undertaker, a minister or a lawyer, he’s your man.”
“Uh, exactly how long has he been in prison?”
“Not that long. The thing is, he’s decided he really wants to be an artist. You think you could take a look at his stuff?”
“Sure,” she said listlessly. “Have him bring by some samples of his work tomorrow.”
“Thanks, El. I owe you one. Say, could you give me the key to your apartment?”
She handed over the key, and he gave her a casual hug. “Thanks again, El. Oh, and listen. If you need any help, if you want me to punch your boyfriend’s lights out or something, you let me know.”
“I will,” she told him, touched in spite of herself.
Once he was gone, she sank slowly back into her chair, imagining a confrontation between the two men—Garek getting beat up and Robbie being hauled back to jail.
She hoped she never saw Garek again. But even more, she hoped he and Robbie never met.
Ellie was sitting on her couch that evening, across from Robbie and his friend Caspar, when the phone rang. Trying to ignore it, she pretended to study Caspar’s painting.
Caspar hadn’t been able to wait until tomorrow to show Ellie his work, so Robbie had invited him to come over. Caspar seemed nice enough—he