“Oh, I don't know about that,” Hugh said easily. “I've got some calendars back in my office that have pictures of females built like that.”
“You would,” Emery agreed.
Mattie sighed. “Emery, you're getting drunk and you always get obnoxious when you drink.”
“Kind of you to notice. I do try. Where are we going?”
“You're going home in a cab,” Mattie said as she steered him toward the door.
“I've got a better idea. Why don't we go get a bite to eat? Just you and me, of course. Leave the Elemental creature behind.”
Hugh crowded close as he followed the pair out the door. “Forget it, Blackwell. Mattie and I already have plans.”
“Pity,” Emery said.
“Hey, Mattie,” Flynn called, hurrying toward the three, who were halfway through the door. “Leaving already?”
“Afraid so,” Mattie said.
“Don't think it hasn't been fun,” Hugh growled.
“Look, I'll get those canvases to you as soon as possible, Mattie.” Flynn followed them all out onto the sidewalk and stood waiting with them until a cruising cab pulled into the passenger loading zone.
“That'll be great, Flynn. But, like I said, Ariel is not going to approve.”
“Don't worry about it.” Flynn opened the cab door and ushered Blackwell inside.
Mattie slid in beside Emery.
“Where the hell are you going?” Hugh demanded as he watched Mattie get into the cab.
“Home. I think I've had enough champagne and soggy canapés tonight. Want to come along? We're on Emery's way.”
Hugh glared at her in frustration and then got into the backseat of the cab beside her.
“You three have a nice evening,” Flynn said casually, bending down to say good-bye.
“Shit,” said Hugh.
“My sentiments exactly,” Emery Blackwell intoned as the cab pulled away from the curb.
“You shouldn't have been there tonight, Emery,” Mattie admonished. “You promised me you would stay up at your place on Whidbey Island until you got the second book of the Byron St. Cyr series completed.”
“Now, don't scold, Mattie, my love. I deserve a break. I swear on my honor as an aging scholar who has sold his soul to the devil of commercial fiction, I will head straight back to Whidbey tomorrow. I just couldn't resist attending that opening tonight.” He looked across Mattie at Hugh, who was filling up a large chunk of the cab. “What about you, Abbott?”
“What about me?”
“Don't you feel a certain perverse pleasure in seeing your influence in Ariel's work? A little claim to artistic immortality, eh?”
“Bull.”
“Succinctly put. A man of few words. Well, as for myself, all I can say is, I'll take my moments of fame when and where I can. All glory is fleeting. Do you know I actually had to explain to a couple of people in that gallery just who I was, Mattie? A humbling experience.”
“Don't worry, there will be a whole new level of fame waiting for you when you emerge as the mysterious author of the best-selling Byron St. Cyr series,” Mattie said gently. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start looking forward to the day you get to sign autographs at the mall.”
“Dear Lord,” Emery moaned. “What a fate. Autographs at the mall. I have truly made a devil's bargain, Mattie Sharpe. And it's all your doing.”
“Your first book will be out in the stores in a couple of weeks, Emery, and you're going to feel much different when you see it selling like hotcakes. Trust me.”
“My future is in your hands, Mattie, love.”
Ten minutes later the cab pulled up in front of the restored early-nineteenth-century building in Pioneer Square that housed Mattie's large loft apartment. Mattie and Hugh climbed out, and after a bit of quiet nudging, Hugh reluctantly paid the fare, including enough to cover the cost of getting Emery Blackwell to his Capitol Hill residence.
The cab departed with Emery sitting regally in the backseat. Mattie dug out her keys and opened the security door of her building.
“What an evening,” Hugh muttered as he punched the elevator call in the hallway.
“A little different from the Hellfire on a Saturday night, isn't it?” Mattie observed.
“Give me the Hellfire anytime.”
“You'd better get used to evenings like this one, Hugh,” Mattie told him sweetly. “I go to several openings a month and hold a lot myself during the year for my own artists. I'm sure you'll want to accompany me to each and every one. After all, you intend to be a part of my life here in Seattle, don't you?”
“For as long as it takes,” Hugh said grimly.
CHAPTERTen
That night it occurred to Hugh for the first time that things were not going to go as smoothly or as easily as he had anticipated.
He sprawled on Mattie's black leather couch amid a tangle of sheets, his hands folded behind his head. It was nearly two in the morning, but the view through the high, curving windows that lined Mattie's huge studio was neon-bright. The glow of city lights at night always irritated Hugh. He preferred the velvet, flower-scented darkness of an island night. If he closed his eyes, he could conjure up a mental image of pale moonlight falling like cream on the sea.
Seeing Mattie in her world tonight had been more of a shock than it should have been. After all, he knew what she did for a living; knew her sister and something about the family. Why had it been surprising to see Mattie looking so at home amid that crowd at the gallery? he wondered.
A part of him knew the answer. He had not wanted to admit that she was a part of that world. For the past several months he had been remembering the night of passion followed by her soft
