Roman wondered if it would be worth the risk.
Grace sat silent as Brian drove her home after the Laguna art show. It had been a long evening, at times fraught with drama. While she and Brian mingled, she stayed aware of Roman. He’d reminded her that afternoon she would be working during the show, but he avoided her most of the evening. If he needed anything, he didn’t ask her. She’d checked in with Talia, but everything was so well organized she wasn’t needed.
When Roman headed for the back hall, Grace worried something was wrong. She waited a few minutes before whispering to Brian that she was going to check on her boss. Roman was ashen when he came out of the men’s room. When he’d looked at her, she’d felt the jolt. Even now, sitting in the car with Brian, she felt stirred by Roman’s intensity. What had he been thinking? What would he have said—or done—if Jasper and Brian hadn’t been close?
After that tense moment in the hall, Roman settled down, talked with people, even smiled a few times. At ten, he was out the door like Cinderella at midnight. Jasper followed. Talia had been exasperated. “I thought you’d keep him here.”
As if Grace had any control over the man.
Brian glanced at her. “You’re very quiet.”
“It was a strange evening.”
“Is your boss always like that?”
Like what? Moody, impossible to understand? “Pretty much.”
“Was the show a success?”
“I have no doubt. I was a little distracted.”
Brian gave her a rueful look. “I noticed. What happened between you and Roman in the hall?”
“Nothing. I thought he might be ill. He said he was fine.” She shook her head. “I think the show mattered more to him than he wanted to admit.”
Brian made a turn. “The evening was a resounding success from where I was standing. He has quite a few fans.”
“Especially women,” Grace muttered under her breath. Roman hadn’t been in the gallery five minutes when a blonde in a dress that must have been spray-painted on her approached him. Even from across the room, Grace knew the woman was more interested in the artist than art.
“Are you worried about him?”
She lifted her shoulders. “No reason I should be.” She didn’t want to spend any more of the evening thinking about Roman Velasco. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Plenty of interesting people there.” He talked about several he’d met. “A couple of lawyers who collect modern art, an airline pilot, an LAPD officer and his wife. I talked with Talia for a few minutes while you were checking on Roman. She’s an interesting lady.”
Grace grinned. “Guess what she studied in college.”
“Art history.”
“That’s what I thought.” She laughed. “Talia majored in economics and marketing.” Grace had learned more about Talia’s personal history over one lunch than she knew about Roman’s after months of working for him. “She went to Cal in the seventies, as a registered Republican. Her boyfriend was in ROTC. They married right out of college so she could get pregnant before he ended up in Vietnam. He made it home, but died of cancer in his forties. She blames Agent Orange, some chemical they sprayed along the rivers to defoliate the jungle. They had a daughter who is now a successful estate planner in Florida. She’s happily married with two boys. Talia flies there once a year to visit.”
“Not what I expected. How did she end up with the art gallery?”
“She married the owner. She was his tax consultant. He taught her about art; she taught him about business. They had eleven happy years together before he passed away.”
Brian turned in to the driveway. Lights were on in the main house. As she and Brian walked along the pathway to her front door, he took her hand. Surprised, she smiled at him, and noticed the lights on in the upstairs studio. What was Roman doing? And why was she thinking about him again?
She realized Brian hadn’t said anything since he parked the car and helped her out. “Thank you for coming to the gallery with me tonight, Brian.” She slipped her hand from his, took her keys from her purse, and unlocked the door.
“Can we talk for a few minutes before I go, Grace?”
She hesitated, wondering if tonight might be a turning point in their relationship. “Do you want to come inside? I can make coffee.”
Brian glanced at the main house and shook his head. “It’s nice out here.” He’d seen the light on, too. A pastor had to care about appearances. He took her hand again as they sat on the wall together. “I like you, Grace. I like you very much. I think you know that.”