“No, not in public, at least not in a romantic way. Isabella was very private.”
“Did you ever say anything to Zeke?”
“No. I figured Mama was right, none of my business.”
Manny and Dena worked side by side in companionable silence. Fifteen minutes later, Zeke strode down the back steps. He looked gorgeous in fresh jeans, a black shirt, and a black leather jacket looped over one shoulder. His blond hair was still damp from the shower and he’d put a bit of product in it so it was looser, darker, almost spiky.
Manny ducked his head, gave her a tiny knowing smile, picked up a box of paintings and slit the tape. She was about to tell him to watch his p’s and q’s, but he peered inside the box and burst out laughing instead.
“What’s so funny?” Zeke asked.
Manny held up a painting, still grinning wide. “It’s one of mine. I never knew Isabella had kept it.”
“Let me see,” Dena said, and reached out for it. Manny released the small canvas after taking another look. Zeke stood so close to her their heads almost touched, and she could smell his aftershave and deodorant. Her whole body tingled from his closeness.
“It’s great,” Zeke said.
“No,” Manny said. “It’s an earlier one. I’m much better now.”
Dena drew in a breath. Manny had talent, true creative genius. She’d advised him to get a second job, a day job. Maybe she could help him with his art, at the same time as she helped Zeke with his business.
“Manny, you’re wrong, this is fantastic,” she said, and another plan began to take shape. “I’m so sorry I said what I did about you getting a second job. Darn. Do you have more?”
“Sure.”
“Where are they?”
“Maybe there are some in these boxes,” Manny said, and searched through the one he’d just opened. “I have others up in the room.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the main house. “I paint up there now—”
“Will you get them?” Dena asked, unable to contain her excitement.
“Why?”
“I’d like to put these in the fair along with Isabella’s work.” She gave Zeke a beseeching glance. “Teacher and student—”
“Absolutely,” Zeke said, and smiled. “It’s a great idea.” He picked up Manny’s canvas again, and held it out at arm’s length.
“For real?” Manny asked.
“For real. You are going far, Manny Hernandez,” Dena said. “Bring everything down here…now scoot.” She turned him around to face the house and gave him a shove. Manny laughed and took off at a run.
Zeke leaned in toward her. “Whatever you want, you have carte blanche.” He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re giving Manny a whole new world.”
“He deserves it,” Dena said. “Kiss me before he gets back.”
Zeke laughed, pulled off her sunglasses, and complied. “I have to go,” he said, when he came up for air. “I’m already late for an appointment in town.”
“I wish you didn’t have to leave.”
“Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than to spend the afternoon with you and Manny, but I’ve got a business to run.” He pulled her close to his chest. She felt the hardness of his body against hers and quickly released him before she lost herself in another delicious kiss. She smoothed his shirt, and patted his chest.
He watched her for a moment. “Will you go to dinner with me?”
“Oh. Yes, sure…” She hesitated, retrieved her sunglasses from his hand and put them back on, not sure if this was for a date or business. Either way he didn’t need to see her looking so beaten.
“I did promise you a date, remember?” The gold flecks in his eyes glittered. “Pick you up here at about six?”
She nodded, afraid to speak for fear that her pounding heart and dry mouth would give her away. A date with Zeke, what would she wear? And she hoped to hell her eyes would lose some of their puffiness by six o’clock.
“Why so early?” she asked.
“We’re going to Cliffs. They have a ‘happening happy hour’ from four-thirty until seven. Thought you might enjoy the young crowd.” He pursed his lips, shot her a sidelong glance. “Not too early, is it?”
“No, not at all.”
She glanced at the mess of boxes and paintings. “What’s the dress code?”
“Anything you want.” He started to walk away. “I forgot you’re not a native, desert casual…it means anything from shorts to jeans to a skirt. You can’t go wrong.” Then he strode back up to the hacienda.
Dena’s thoughts raced. Cliffs was where Debbie Williams