Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,37
Mammoth.”
Eli’s voice was a low growl on the other end. “Fuck, Jessica, you can’t tell me shit like that. I’m already a hanging on by a thread, and I can’t work.”
The business side of her brain kicked in. He still had to finish a painting for the exhibit. “Damn, Eli, this is what I was afraid of. Either of us getting in the way of what the other has to do.”
Eli hesitated. “No, I know. I’m painting, of course. I just can’t focus on it.”
“Oh, right,” she mumbled. Searching for a way to ease the conversation, she started in on the reason she called. “So dinner? I promise it’ll be informal and low key. Besides, she wants to actually meet the artist she’s heard so much about.”
“Yeah, I’ll come.”
“Wait, just like that?”
“It’s pretty simple—I want to see you. Even if it is at your mother’s house. Doesn’t matter to me.”
There it was, that frank honesty again. No games. Would she ever get used to this? “You are such a contradiction. The controlled artist. Effortlessly charming one second and brooding the next. And then just plain honest about what you’re thinking. It’s pretty addictive.”
“Sassy,” his voice was smooth and silky. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
***
Eli shifted in his chair. Mia Stanton Waal Chambers Berber had managed to have him seated directly on her right. He was unaccustomed to being in the hot seat. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the spot in front of a woman’s parents. College? Maybe. As a rule, nothing flustered him, but for some reason, sitting here next to Mia Stanton, he was starting to sweat.
“So, Samson, your work is awe inspiring. The entire town is abuzz with your name,” Mia said.
“It is? That’s news to me.”
Jessica at least jumped in with a rescue attempt. “Mom, I’ve told you, Samson prefers to be called Eli. Samson is the public persona.”
God, had she actually bought that lame excuse? He didn’t particularly care as long as it kept her from calling out his brother’s name when they were together.
Mia’s gaze flitted between him and her daughter, with her eyes narrowing a millimeter. “I’m so glad that you and Jessica could work together and find the arrangement mutually beneficial.”
Eli cleared his throat as the image of him and Jessica screwing on her front porch flashed in his memory. He quickly locked the memory away in a containment carrier in the back of his brain. He’d let it out later, when he had time to savor the dream. “Yes. She’s an extremely talented manager. She’s already taken the Samson brand and amplified it. I never would have been able to do that on my own.” That was the truth, at least.
“That’s my daughter for you. She’s full of hidden talents. I’m just so relieved she found something that worked for her. I was getting very worried that she wouldn’t settle on a career at all and insist on being a perpetual student. “
“Mom!” Jessica frowned as she gave a shake of her head.
Mia’s eyes went wide. “Well, it’s true, darling. I mean, how many post graduate degrees do you need? At least now that she has a career, we can focus on her finding someone and not dying alone.”
Eli frowned. Degrees, as in plural? Jessica was full of surprises. He’d have to do some more digging on her. No you won’t, you idiot. Women hate that controlling shit. He ground his teeth and tried to focus on the excellent steak one of the maids had placed in front of him.
***
Things finally calmed down for the next thirty minutes as Jessica played interference and volleyed probing questions about their relationship.
Occasionally, Eli would chat with one of the other artists at the table. There was a sculptor there as well as another painter. The final was a performance artist. There was also a gallery owner and another manager present, but Mia kept him in the hot seat with Jessica trying to distract her.
“Jessica mentions that you’re engaged. Where’s your fiancé tonight?”
Beside him, Jess went stiff. He plastered his hand on her knee and squeezed to keep her quiet. If her mother was busy talking about her fiancé, she couldn’t be probing the two of them about their relationship, and she couldn’t probe him about his career as an artist. Funny thing—this was exactly the kind of interaction Samson would have loved. He’d have charmed Mia and steered her the direction he wanted, which was usually himself. Eli usually