Millionaire's women - By Helen Brooks Page 0,182

your girlfriend and that horrible artist person. When he unveiled that obscene painting…and you! You were no help, laughing the way you did. I was mortified, absolutely mortified. You knew how much this evening meant to me—and yet you couldn’t even be bothered to wear a decent tie!”

He glanced down at the scrap of fabric in question. “I’m beginning to like it,” he said. “Ellie gave it to me.”

“I’m not at all surprised. You cannot be serious about that girl—oh, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw the way you were looking at her all evening. I admit, she’s attractive in a lowclass sort of way, but she would never fit in. Just look at her family—her mother a house cleaner, her father a usedcar salesman, her uncle a taco maker. Who knows what other distasteful details we’ll discover about her background?”

At least one more, if his suspicions were correct, Garek thought, remembering the picture of Ellie’s parents in her bedroom.

He looked at his sister. If they’d had this conversation yesterday, he would have been furious. But now, after his conversation with Ellie, he could only think of what she’d said. Doreen’s face had the smooth, blank look of someone who’d had a face-lift; there were no smile lines by her eyes, only tiny vertical grooves above her upper lip that made her look bitter and dissatisfied. What had made her that way? he wondered. Out loud, he said, “Ellie fit in perfectly tonight.”

“She was tolerated, nothing more. And only because my friends are too polite to say anything. You must watch out for this girl. You know she’s only interested in your money. Did you see the way she was eyeing the furniture, as if she was assessing its value?”

“You don’t know her,” Garek said.

“I know her, all right. Her type is obvious. She’s the type to get pregnant and trap a man into marriage.”

“No, she’s the type to have a cousin who forces her to marry a man at gunpoint.”

Doreen’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”

A glimmer of a smile curved Garek’s mouth at the sight of Doreen’s aghast look. “I’m saying, sister, dear, your warning is too late. Ellie and I are already married.”

Chapter Twelve

Ellie looked at the giraffe, wishing she could wring Garek’s neck until he looked like a twin of the penned animal in front of her. “Why haven’t you signed the annulment papers?” she asked, turning her gaze back to the aggravating creature next to her.

He shrugged and led her to the next enclosure, not responding to her question—another bad habit of his, she thought darkly. When she’d called his office this morning and demanded to speak to him, his assistant had put her on hold, then come back on the line saying Garek was too busy to talk right now, but he’d be glad to meet her at lunchtime at any spot she chose.

“He can talk to me now,” Ellie had said sweetly, “or meet me at the zoo.”

She hadn’t thought the big ape would actually agree to her suggestion. She’d been tempted to stand him up—and she probably would have if the matter hadn’t been so urgent.

“Why haven’t you signed the papers?” she asked again.

“There’s been a glitch.” He threw a peanut to one of the baboons.

Probably a close relative of his, Ellie thought. “What kind of glitch?”

“Some legal technicality. It should take only a week or two to correct.”

“A week or two?” she repeated blankly. For the last couple of days, ever since Doreen Tarrington’s dinner party, Ellie had been feeling like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. First there’d been the influx of customers to the gallery—virtually all of the dinner guests and a multitude of their friends had descended upon Vogel’s and purchased at least one art piece. Tom, Carlo and Bertrice were ecstatic.

Ellie should have been delighted too. And she was. Only…she wished Garek wasn’t the one largely responsible for the gallery’s sudden success. She didn’t want to have to begrateful to him. She didn’t want to have to even think about him. But it was amazingly difficult not to. Especially after the visitor she’d had at the gallery yesterday.

Ellie had just opened, when the bell on the door jingled and a teenager walked in. The tall girl with hostile gray eyes looked vaguely familiar, but it took Ellie a moment to place where she’d seen that thin face and straight brown hair before.

“You’re Karen Tarrington, aren’t you?” Ellie said.

The girl looked

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