Almost Perfect (24 page)

With all the people milling around the catering table, getting drinks took longer than Joe expected. He exchanged a few words with art collectors he'd met at other shows, then bumped into another couple who had children at the camp. The latter presented a minor problem. He didn't know if they knew about the no-drinking rule, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

He waited until they'd moved on, located the Coltons talking to his mother with their backs to him, and slid two soft drink cups to the bartender.

At last, he had two cups of white wine in hand and was making his way back toward Maddy. If all went well this evening, they'd move from simply speaking to really talking.

His stomach tightened at the thought, though. Why did relationships require so much talking? Women were supposed to be intuitive. Couldn't they figure out what was going on inside a guy without him having to say it out loud?

Although some guys, like Derrick, didn't seem to have a problem verbalizing, even when it came to really personal stuff. Maybe he could start with something impersonal, keeping it light and friendly. Then later, before leaving, he'd ask if he could come to the Craft Shack after the show so they could talk, since the middle of a crowded gallery was not the place for a serious conversation.

From several feet away, he saw Maddy listening to a tall, willowy woman who seemed to be admiring one of her pieces. Good, he and Maddy would have a buffer to get them through the next few minutes. As he drew closer, though, he noticed two things. The woman didn't look like a collector. She looked like an artist dressed in kitschy Goth attire, and Maddy's eyes were frantic.

He quickened his pace, coming up on them just as the woman turned and walked away. He looked from the retreating back to Maddy, who stood frozen and pale.

"Okay," he said, "mind telling me what that was about?"

She closed her eyes for a full three seconds, then opened them. "Nothing."

"Then why are you upset?"

"I'm not. Is that for me?" She took one of the cups from him and smiled at an approaching couple. When the couple moved past, she downed half her wine in two big gulps.

"Give me that." He snagged the cup.

"Hey!" She scowled at him as she wiped a drop from her chin.

He held the cup away. "Tell me what upset you."

She scanned the crowded area and spoke through stiff lips. "This isn't the place to discuss it."

He narrowed his eyes in irritation. No matter how carefully he planned things out, Maddy always threw in a monkey wrench. "Fine." He set both cups down on a pedestal, at the feet of a bronze bear, took her hand, and started walking. The deal with plans, though, is they had to stay fluid.

"Joe." She gasped, but resisted for only a second.

He spotted the door to the back room and headed in that direction.

"Juanita," he said as they passed the showroom manager. "Can you cover Maddy's area for a while?"

"Uh, certainly." She frowned at him.

Without a qualm, he went right through the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and closed it behind him. A quick glance around revealed a dark, cavernous space filled with the scent of wood glue and sawdust. Faint light from outside spilled through barred windows, casting striped shadows onto worktables and equipment.

"Jo-oe." Maddy jerked her hand out of his grasp, drawing his attention back to her. Scowling up at him, she rubbed her hand. "You've got to stop hauling me around."

"Did I hurt you?" He frowned at the thought.

"No." She dropped her hand to her hips. "But that's twice tonight you've done it. Next time you want me to move from point A to point B, do you think you could ask?"

"I could. But since you'd probably argue, my way's quicker."

"Well, silly me for thinking the human race had progressed past the caveman stage." She tossed her head in indignation, her eyes shining in the dim light. "I guess I'm lucky you don't knock me over my head and haul me about by my hair."

A smile spread over his face. "God, you look good tonight."

"What?" That drew her up short for a second. "Oh. Thank you. But I repeat, next time ask?'

"Check. Now"—he settled the small of his back against one of the tables—"tell me what the bitch in black said to upset you."

"She's not a bitch." Maddy sighed, suddenly deflated. "She's just… understandably irritated."

"About… ?"

"We've been over this. I've barely arrived in Santa Fe and I'm already in a big show, everybody's raving about my work, and I'm going to have prints in an art catalog."

"So, she's jealous." He nodded. "Got that. Now, what'd she say?"

"She has a right to be jealous. It doesn't seem fair that she's been here for two years, working hard to get a break. She has some pieces in a small gallery, but she'd clearly give her eyeteeth to be featured in a show of this magnitude. What right do I have to swoop into town and steal her dream?"

"You're not stealing anyone's dream." Going with impulse, he reached out and took her hand as a compromise to pulling her to him for a hug. Even that small contact felt good, though. A warm intertwining of fingers. "Just because one artist makes it big doesn't mean another one can't. Although maybe she doesn't have what it takes and you do. Have you stopped to consider that?"

"It still doesn't seem fair."

"God." He chuckled. "You're such a woman."

Fire snapped into her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean!"

"It wasn't an insult." He swallowed his amuse-merit. "Women always want everyone to win so no one gets their feelings hurt. Well, sorry, life doesn't work that way. It's like Ranger school. My class started out with nearly four hundred guys, all of whom thought they wanted it—until they found out how tough it was going to be. About half of them washed out the first day, it's that hard. Less than one hundred made it all the way to the end, because desire alone isn't enough. You have to have ability
and
conviction. That's why making the Rangers was one of the biggest highs of my life."

"But that's my point. You had to work to earn it. What did I do to earn this?"

He studied her, realizing she was serious. "Those pieces of art out there didn't create themselves."

She shrugged. "Well, no, but—"

"No buts. You've spent years developing a God-given talent, and you've spent the last few weeks working your tail off to produce enough work for this show. So, it's not like life just handed this to you. You earned it."

"I guess. I still feel bad for her."

"The bitch?"

"She's not a bitch."

"Tell me what she said, and I'll decide."

"It's not important."

"Mad-dy…" He lifted an eyebrow in warning.

"Oh, all right. She said, 'Yes, well, you do have a very…
colorful
style. I can see why Sylvia wants to do prints. They should be very popular with
decorators'
Can you believe that?" The indignation he'd been looking for broke free. "She called my work decorator art! An artist never says something like that to another artist. Well, unless the other artist is actually trying to produce decorator art— which is okay. There's nothing wrong with mass production to make a living, but in a situation like this, it's the ultimate insult. She's saying my work doesn't belong in a gallery. It belongs hanging over hotel beds, chosen solely on the merit of the colors matching the draperies."

"Yep." Joe nodded. "She's a bitch."

"She is not! She's just frustrated. But that doesn't make her a bitch."

"No, but she said something specifically designed to hurt you, and
that
makes her a bitch. Now admit it. Say 'she's a bitch.' "

Maddy hedged. "She could be a nice person."

"Say it. B-I-T-C-H. Bitch."

She clamped her mouth shut with her lips tucked between her teeth.

He straightened to his full height, towering over her. "Am I going to have to tickle it out of you?"

"Ah!" She jumped back with hands raised to ward him off. "Don't you dare!"

"Then say it." He took a threatening step forward.

She dashed around to the far side of the* table, where she stopped to face him. "I won't."

"Now this is interesting." Something primal sparked inside him at the thought of chasing her. "You do realize you can't possibly escape if I decide to catch you."

She raised her stubborn chin. "Wanna bet?"

"Is that a challenge?" He raised a brow as arousal stirred.

She looked left, then right. He waited for her to pick her direction. "Maddy"—he dropped his voice purely for effect—"I'm bigger than you. I'm faster than you. I promise, I will catch you."

An answering excitement lit her eyes an instant before she feinted left, then took off to the right.

He moved to block her path to the door. She whirled with a laugh and headed the other way. He followed, methodically letting her elude him while corralling her steadily toward the darker shadows in the back.

He soon had her trapped in a corner with another table between them. They stood facing each other, their hands on the table, her breathing labored. His heart pounded in response.

"Ready to give up?" he asked, knowing that would egg her on.

"You don't have me yet." Her eyes shifted back and forth, but he already knew her pattern. She feinted every time, alternating the direction. This time it would be right then left. He waited for her to break. The second she did, he vaulted over the table and landed behind her just as she turned and collided with his chest.

"Gotcha!" His arms closed about her as she shrieked. Another quick move, and he had her wrists pinned to the small of her back. "Give?"

"Never." Her chin came up, her face flushed and glowing. Amusement faded as awareness grew, awareness of her body trapped against his, her heart beating against his chest. Her breath fanned over his chin as her gaze dropped to his mouth, then lifted back to his eyes.

Unable to resist, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Possessiveness filled him as he took her mouth, claiming her as his own. His catch. His mate. He tilted his head, telling her with a kiss the things he wanted to voice,
You're mine, Maddy, mine. Forever
. With a moan, she arched into him until her soft belly cupped his arousal. The thought of taking her there in the darkness, against the table, filled his head. He tried to shake it, knowing it was ludicrous—they had a gallery full of people a short distance away, and unresolved issues to settle—but the idea took hold and grew.

Maybe this was the way to blast through the barrier between them. He'd show her what he felt. What he wanted.

Maddy moaned as he turned her so her back was against the table. He released her wrists and wrapped his arms about her, holding her tightly against him.

Lifting her hands, she cradled his face. Her fingers stroked his cheeks, grazed their joined lips.

Everything inside her went soft with wanting. She'd missed this so much. Missed him. She returned the kiss with every ounce of pent-up longing trapped inside her. She needed to talk to him so badly, but when his body pressed into hers, rational thought evaporated, leaving only raw emptiness aching to be filled.

"Maddy? Joe?"

They both froze. Maddy's eyes snapped open to find Joe's startled eyes staring back at her. Reality returned in a dizzy rush. They broke apart with a gasp.

Juanita turned toward the sound, then whirled away. "Oops. Sorry."

Maddy checked her clothes and hair. Everything was still in place, thank God. "D-did you need me out front?"

"There's two men from Taos I want you to meet. They own a gallery and are interested in handling some of your originals."

"I'll be right there." As soon as her heart stopped pounding. Glancing sideways, she saw that Joe's breathing was as ragged as her own. What had they been thinking to get so carried away?

"Take your time. No rush." Juanita started to move away, then stopped. "Oh, Joe, Mama asked me to tell you she was too tired to stay."

He cleared his throat. "Does she want me to drive her home?"

"No, she already left. She said you could get a ride back to the camp with Maddy."

"My mother left?" he nearly shouted. "Without me?"

"Joe, it's all right." Maddy patted his arm, confused by his reaction. "I'll give you a lift back to camp."

"You're missing the point." He turned to her with something akin to anger in his eyes. "My mother is driving. By herself. On a dark road."

"So?"

"The woman can't drive. Especially not at night."

"But—" No, that wasn't anger she saw. That was fear. "If she can't drive, why does she own a car?"

"Because she refuses to admit she can't drive."

"Joe, surely you're overreacting." Maddy tried to rein in her own mounting concern. "She wouldn't have taken off if she didn't feel competent. She'll be all right. Don't you think?"

"I don't know." He pulled a mobile phone from his pants pocket. "Why don't you go on out front? I'll join you in a minute."