Free Collide & Burn by Claudy Conn

after all—and still I kept going in that direction. I was on a collision course, and its name was Wade Devon.
    He was everything I thought a man should be.
    He was my knight in shining armor. No, he was the shining armor, so bright and glittery that I felt blinded in his light. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything or anyone in my life, and that want was all-consuming.
    And then he arranged a meeting with Mr. Bernard Sother of Sother’s Gallery—the most prestigious art gallery in New York City.
    Jumping for joy, tummy in knots, I stood back and prayed as Mr. Sother studied my portfolio. He turned, and I saw a slow smile stretch his thin lips as he said, “Wade, my darling, Wade, you have discovered genius.”
    Like what ? Genius? The wonder was that I didn’t faint when he turned and began speaking to me as though I was a rare and valued artist.
    We talked and laughed and conferred, and all the while I looked to Wade, who gave me encouraging smiles and soft, warm looks.
    He announced that we were going to do a Christmas showing in early December. He called his secretary to take notes, and he began issuing orders for the preparation of our show.
    He turned to me and said, “You will be our guest of honor, and it will be black tie.” He turned to Wade. “You will arrange for some publicity, yes?”
    “Yes,” Wade said.
    “What sort of publicity?” I asked.
    “Ah,” said Mr. Bernard, as he’d asked me to call him. I’d nearly giggled in his face when he said to call him that. “I will send out invitations to only the most select people, but in order to, shall we say, tickle their interest in a new artist … sometimes a bit of shall we call, mystery, scandal, intrigue is called for.”
    “But I—”
    “Are dating the most sought-after bachelor in all of the United States, and up until now, you have kept it a secret. I wish a hint to leak out—”
    “Oh, no. We aren’t—”
    “It’s too late,” Wade said, interrupting. “He obviously knows that we’re dating.”
    I kept quiet. I couldn’t believe Wade was willing to play this game just to help my career. It was humbling, knowing how private he liked to be.
    Well, I was on a high I couldn’t come down from, so when Wade took me to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and then took me behind the scenes on a VIP tour of all the new works that had arrived but were not yet on display, I was ready to bow down and kiss the shoes he was wearing.
    We went to lunch then, and apparently it was a favorite haunt of his, as everyone seemed to know him. He said, “And now it begins.”
    “What begins?”
    Someone snapped a photo of the two of us, and I realized. I said, “Oh no … Wade, I am so sorry …”
    “It’s why I brought you here. This is a first for me.” He pyramided his hands under his chin and stared hard at me. “You have to understand, Charlie. I have never brought a woman to this little restaurant. It’s a private place for me. I find myself wanting things I have never wanted before, but more than that, I like to make you smile the way you smiled today.”
    “Did you know they’d take a picture of us? Are you upset?” I asked, watching his face and feeling my brain explode with hope when he grinned.
    “I knew. I was sure, in fact. It is most unusual for me to be seen dining with a woman, and now the rumor mill will discover that the woman who has captured Wade Devon’s interest is also the new star in the art world. It’s what Bernard hoped for.”
    My heart took a nosedive.
    He had done this to procure me some publicity. Charlie, he told you early on to never read anything into the things he might do with you. He warned you.
    “I see,” I said, trying not to sound despondent.
    He reached over and took my hand. “Charlie …”
    “I know. Don’t read into anything,” I answered, trying to keep the sharp disappointment out of my voice.
    His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing to contradict this, and so we ordered.