“Well, considering I just spent a whole night walking around the city, I kind of gave myself a crash course.”
“Find any new ghosts?” she asked, wondering how many nights he’d been up wandering the spookier parts of historical Boston.
He gave her a look that she couldn’t quite decipher, and she noticed he tensed. The same tenseness she’d sensed during his visits today.
“None that we’re going to think about tonight.”
She got the definite feeling his response had a double meaning, but she didn’t understand it.
He led her to the T, and after several stops and a line change, Poppy realized they were headed for Beacon Hill.
“Where are we going?” Her curiosity was killing her.
“You’ll have to just wait and see.”
They walked another block, and then Killian stopped. Poppy looked around. “Are we here?”
He nodded. “We’re here.”
Poppy frowned. Most of the buildings along this street looked like brownstone apartments. Spring flowers had started to bloom in some of the flower boxes. And though it was beautiful, she couldn’t see why they were here.
She finally gave up, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “Why are we here?”
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward one of the brownstones. As they walked up the concrete steps, Poppy noticed a sign painted on the frosted glass of the front door in scrolling green lettering.
“What is this?” Poppy asked.
“Go look.” He pushed open the door for her to enter.
She glanced at him, and he gave her an encouraging smile.
She stepped inside and realized it was a gallery. But unlike last night’s gallery, there was nothing “adult” about this exhibition. Instead of a world of the erotic, she was suddenly enveloped by an atmosphere of enchantment.
She walked farther into the room, her senses overwhelmed by color and texture and whimsy. Paintings of various sizes hung on the walls. Some done in watercolor, some in pencil, some in oils. All depicted fantasy worlds. Fairies, dragons, magical lands.
Poppy turned slowly, taking in everything until she’d come full circle back to face Killian.
“What is this place?”
“It’s a gallery that sells fantasy artwork. Some of the art here is from children’s books. A lot is just made specifically to sell.”
She gazed around her again, moving to look more closely at an amazing painting of a pond scene with flowers and water lilies and iridescent water nymphs waltzing on the water’s surface, leaving rippling patterns in their wake.
The one beside it was a darker pencil drawing of an irritable-looking ogre in his lair. The detailing of his scaly skin, his tattered clothing, the annoyance in his eyes—sheer magic.
She turned back to Killian, stunned. “How did you find this place?”
Killian shrugged, a smug little quirk to his lips. “I just happened upon it during one of my research trips.”
In truth, he really didn’t know how he’d found the tiny gallery himself. He’d been walking, his mind totally consumed with Poppy. And his dream. And what he’d said to Poppy in his dream.
Yet something had drawn him out of those thoughts, just in time to notice this particular townhouse and that particular, almost unreadable sign on the door.
He found himself climbing the steps to inspect the sign closer. When he’d been able to read the name, and realized it was a gallery, he’d immediately thought of Poppy’s artwork. Even before he’d peeked through the window. Even before he saw it was indeed a gallery of fantasy and fairy-tale artwork.
But as soon as he’d peeked inside, he knew he had to bring Poppy here.
In fact, this place had triggered the idea of an affair too. He supposed whimsical fairy-tale images were an odd segue into that train of thought, but seeing the art got him thinking about Poppy getting her confidence back. About her artwork and herself.
He started to think that was why he was really here. And why he was so attracted to her. He was meant to have a fling with this woman. He was meant to give her back her groove.
He should be doubting that. He should be worrying about getting Daisy’s wish granted, getting out of here and keeping Poppy safe. That was what a wise demon would do, but he wasn’t. Again, it was as if he couldn’t. He had to carry out this wish in a certain way—and that way required his staying here.
Now, watching her smile with amazement and admiration at the painting in front of her, he felt certain he was doing the right thing.
“These pieces are amazing. I love them.” She beamed at him, flashing that dimple that for some reason he found to be both so adorable and so sexy.
She meandered to another painting, mesmerized by the details. Then she looked at him again, and though her lips were still curved into a smile, he sensed hesitance in her dark eyes.
“This—this is like the kind of artwork I used to do.”
“I know.”
She gave him a querying look. “I know I told you I wanted to illustrate children’s books, but I didn’t think I told you my work was like this.”
“No, that’s true. You didn’t.” He paused, wondering if she’d be annoyed by the fact he’d seen her work. Then he decided lying wasn’t an option—not when he couldn’t tell the truth about so many other things. Besides, he wanted her to realize her work was amazing.
“I accidentally saw it that day when I brought you your copy edits so you could work on the couch. I’d been looking for a book you could use as a makeshift desk, and pulled down one of your sketchbooks.”
Poppy nodded, but he couldn’t really read her reaction. Did she consider that a breach of privacy? Was she upset?
“I was so impressed,” he said. “You are very talented. As talented as these artists, if not more so.”
Poppy looked back at the painting in front of her, an oil of a fairy town built on the limbs of a giant oak. Lightning bugs served as streetlights. Leaves and acorns were fashioned into houses. Fairies flitted here and there.
“Do you really think so?” She didn’t look in his direction as she asked.
“I do. You are amazing.”
She looked at him then, hope glittering in her eyes. She really didn’t quite believe him, but she wanted to. He could see that.
He reached for her hands then, pulling her to face him.
“You have no idea how amazing you are.” He kissed her then, a sweet, soft kiss, maybe a little worshipful too.
“In every way,” he murmured as they parted.
Her cheeks colored like pink glaze on white porcelain, but he wasn’t sure if the blush was because of his words or his actions. Either way, she’d see how wonderful she was. He’d be sure of that.
After the kiss, they wandered around the gallery, hand in hand, stopping to admire and to discuss. Poppy seemed to favor colored-pencil drawings. She liked lots of detail and color. Killian did too.
Once Poppy had looked her fill, he suggested they go eat.
Poppy seemed almost relieved at that idea, and Killian didn’t think it was because she was starving.
“Are you nervous about what might happen later?” he asked with a naughty grin.
“Maybe.” She cast him an apprehensive look.
He stopped walking down the sidewalk, drawing her to a halt too.
“There’s no pressure here,” he told her. Although he wouldn’t lie to himself that he was hopeful there was going to be a “later.”
He kissed her, keeping this one brief, so as not to shatter her nerves completely.
