“But we wanted you to be there when…” Krissa’s voice trailed off.
Derek shrugged. “I know. I want to be, too. But we don’t want to blow another opportunity and…” his gaze flicked back to Nate. “This might be the last chance.”
Nate had said nothing to Derek about leaving. Again, he felt that faint hint that Derek maybe wanted him gone. He wasn’t trying to convince him to stay any longer, that was for sure.
“Are you sure, Derek?” he asked quietly.
Derek was looking at Krissa, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
Nate’s gut tightened as he walked into Gallery 228 on Melrose Avenue.
The buzz of conversation mingled with cool jazz sax music in the über-stylish building. Gleaming golden wood floors met stark white walls.
He and Krissa paused in the foyer. He took a long breath. She reached for his hand and squeezed it.
“It’s fine,” she said.
He studied her. She wore a violet silk dress, strapless, with a big bow over her breasts that made him think about reaching out and tugging it. The dress skimmed over her slim body to just above her knees, and high-heeled barely-there sandals added a few inches to her height. With more makeup than she usually wore, she looked stunningly glamorous and sexy. She totally fit in with the hip urban vibe in the art gallery.
He’d had to dig deep into his bag for something to wear. The black jacket he’d pulled out had been wrinkled until he’d hung it in the steamy bathroom, an old trick learned while traveling. He wore it over dark jeans, with a loose white linen shirt and a thin scarf draped loosely around his neck. He hadn’t been sure about the jeans, but hey, he was an artist, he could get away with it.
“Nate!” Greg greeted him, a drink in his hand. He put out his free hand to shake Nate’s. “So glad you could make it!”
Nate shook Greg’s hand, taking in the owner of Gallery 228 in his gold velvet jacket and skinny black pants.
“Greg, this is my friend Krissa. Krissa, Greg Boscoe.”
Krissa shook hands with Greg with a smile. “Pleased to meet you.”
Greg eyed her and gave Nate an approving look. “Likewise. Come on in. I’ll get you a drink and then introduce you around.”
He led them into the gallery. People crowded the long space, standing in front of the images hung on the wall, artfully lit with small spotlights hanging from the exposed beams of the ceiling. Experimentally, Nate removed his dark glasses. He blinked. As long as he stayed out of the direct illumination of the lights, it wasn’t too bad in there, despite all the white reflecting around him. He tucked the glasses into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Nate’s eyes went to the first image—his photographs of fishing docks he’d taken in Thailand. A thrill of pride rushed through him at the display of his work and all the people there to see it. He glanced at Krissa and she gave him an excited smile with a hitch of one bare shoulder. He reached for her hand and took it in his, held it as they followed Greg to the bar at the back of the gallery.
“This is very cool,” she murmured to him.
“I guess.”
When they each had a glass of Merlot in their hand, Greg began introducing them to other guests.
“And this is my partner, Denzel,” Greg said, sliding an arm around the man. “He adores your work, Nate.”
Nate shook hands with Denzel. “Thanks.”
“What’s up for you next?” Greg asked. “You’ve been back in the States for a while now. No more traveling?”
Here came the stuff he’d been dreading—the questions, the curiosity…the pity. “Not sure,” he murmured. “I’ve been taking some time off. I haven’t made plans yet.”
“I heard you were going to be working on a book. That’s so exciting!”
“Mmm. Well, that got put on hold for a while. Not sure when I’ll get back to that.” He didn’t know if he’d ever get back to that. But he wasn’t about to say that. Krissa squeezed his hand, and he felt taller. Stronger.
“If you’re still interested in doing a book, you should meet Blake Remata. He works for Zenith Publishing. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Nate and Krissa followed Greg to another group of people where he performed more introductions. Meeting another publisher was great, except Nate still had no idea if he was ever going to be able to photograph again. Although…his eyes roamed around the room. It wasn’t exceptionally bright in there, but nor was it dark. His eyes felt surprisingly good without the glasses.
They mingled and chatted, drank more wine.
“You have such a sense of composition,” one woman told him.
“I love the minimalism,” another guest said. “It’s almost Zen-like. Beautiful balance. Harmony.”
Nate absorbed all the compliments and praise for his work. His ego had been battered lately and all the adulation helped build him up. And having Krissa at his side made it all that much better. She squeezed his hand or his arm at every accolade, and the look of pride on her face was worth more than every word of praise from someone else.
He loved having her at his side. Some warm emotion washed over him and he pulled her away from the crowd, off to the side. He set his wine glass down on a table, put his hands on her hips.
She smiled up at him, and he took her wineglass, too and set it next to his. Her hands came to rest on his chest. He pulled her against him, pelvis to pelvis.
“What?” she asked.
He lifted a hand to stroke her hair, push it behind one bare shoulder. She looked so beautiful tonight, glowing and proud and sexy. He couldn’t wait to get her back to the hotel room and fuck her mindless. His dick leaped at the thought.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
He bent his head but stopped with his mouth a breath apart from hers. “You’re gorgeous, Krissa. Thank you for coming with me.”
Her eyelids drifted closed as she waited for his mouth to touch hers, and then, over her shoulder Nate saw a group of people he knew walk into the gallery. People he knew very well.
He lifted his head.
“Nate!” His mother spotted him, put out her arms and made a beeline across the room to him. “Oh, Nate!”
Oh, Christ.
Krissa opened her eyes and turned in his arms. Nate’s first impulse was to push her away from him. But it was too late for that. His entire family trailed along behind his mother and had already seen him in the heated clinch with Krissa. Jesus.
He gently stepped apart from her, and moved her to his side. She tossed a questioning glance at him, and he gave her a crooked smile, then turned to his mother as she threw herself into his arms.
He’d forgotten what a little thing she was. He’d been bigger than her since he was twelve. Something twisted inside him and he hugged his mother, whom he hadn’t seen for over two years. He looked over her head as his father and two brothers, along with their escorts, approached.
His dad smiled, but his eyes were wary and he appeared to be fighting his emotions. Both his brothers looked—annoyed.
He greeted them all with hugs and back slaps, a big family reunion he hadn’t planned on having here at Gallery 228.
“Nate, this is my girlfriend, Tara,” his brother Bryan introduced them. His other brother, Rich, presented his girlfriend Helen and Nate then introduce Krissa to everyone. His parents eyed her with interest, their gaze dropping to Nate and Krissa’s clasped hands as they stood there. Then Nate’s mom spotted the ring on Krissa’s left hand.
“Oh my God!” she cried, reaching for Krissa’s hand. “Nate, did you get married? And not tell us?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nate’s stomach rolled. “Uh…no. No, Mom.”
Still holding Krissa’s hand, his mother looked up at him. “But…oh.” She slowly released Krissa. “Oh.”