Bed of Roses Page 0,63

and fragrance while the rain pattered on the tent. It was really lovely."

"I wondered how that worked out. I was out on new construction Saturday afternoon, and we didn't. Stay dry, that is."

"I like spring rains. The way they sound, the way they smell. Not all brides feel the same, but we managed to make this one really happy. And how was Poker Night?"

He scowled at the road as his headlights cut through the dark. "I don't want to talk about it."

She laughed. "I heard Carter cleaned your clock."

"The guy hustled us with all that 'I'm not much of a card player' routine, and that open, honest face. He's a shark."

"Yes, oh yes, Carter's a real shark."

"You haven't played cards with him. Believe it."

"Sore loser."

"Damn right."

Amused, she leaned back in the seat. "So, tell me a little about this artist."

"Ah . . . yeah, I should do that." During a beat of silence, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "A friend of a client. I think I mentioned that."

"You did." She'd meant the art itself, but she caught enough in his tone to zero in. "And a friend of yours?"

"Sort of. We went out a couple of times. A few times. Maybe several."

"Ah. I see." Though her interest spiked, she kept her tone casual. "She's an ex."

"Not exactly. We weren't . . . It was more we hooked up for a few weeks. More than a year ago. Closer to two, actually. It was just a thing, then it wasn't."

His uneasiness struck her as both interesting and flattering. "If you're looking at this as boggy ground, Jack, you don't need to. I've had my suspicions you've slept with other women."

"It's true. I have. And Kellye - she spells it with an 'e' on the end - is one of them. She's . . . interesting."

"And artistic."

His lips twitched, intriguing her. "You be the judge."

"So, why did the thing stop being a thing, or is that too awkward a question?"

"It got a little too intense for me. She's an intense sort, and high-maintenance."

"Required too much attention?" Emma asked, with just a hint of cool.

"Required is a good word for it. Anyway, it stopped being a thing."

"But you stayed friendly."

"Not so much. But I ran into her a couple months ago, and we were okay. Then she got in touch about her opening, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to go. Especially since you're here to protect me."

"Do you often need protection from women?"

"All the time," he said and amused her again.

"Don't you worry." She patted his hand on the gear shift. "I'm here for you."

After he'd parked, they walked through the cool spring evening in a breeze that fluttered the ends of her wrap. The little shops she enjoyed browsing were already closed, but the bistros did brisk business. A number of diners braved the chill for a chance to eat outside with candles flickering on tables. She smelled roses and red sauce.

"You know what I haven't done for you?" Emma began.

"I have a list, but I figured I'd work up to some of the more interesting items."

She poked him with her elbow. "Cook. I'm a good cook when I have time. I'll have to seduce you with my fajitas."

"Anytime, anywhere." He stopped in front of the gallery. "Here we are. Are you sure you wouldn't rather cook?"

"Art," she said, and breezed inside.

No, not really, she thought immediately. The first thing she saw other than a number of people standing around looking intense was a large white canvas with a single, wide, blurry line of black running down the center.

"Is it a tire tread? A single tire tread on a white road, or a division of . . . something?"

"It's a black line on a white canvas. And we're going to need drinks," Jack decided.

"Mmm-hmm."

While he left her to find some, Emma wandered. She studied another canvas holding a twisted black chain with two broken links titled Freedom . Another boasted what seemed to be a number of black dots, which on closer inspection proved to be a scattering of lowercase letters.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" A man in dark-framed glasses and a black turtleneck stepped up beside her. "The emotion, the chaos."

"Uh-huh."

"The minimalist approach to intensity and confusion. It's brilliant. I could study this one for hours, and see something different each time."

"It depends on how you arrange the letters."

He beamed at her. "Exactly! I'm Jasper."

"Emma."

"Have you seen Birth ?"

"Not firsthand."

"I believe it's her best work. It's just over there.