“Fancy,” Frank said as he drove out of the parking lot.
In no time at all, Frank pulled into the driveway of Cliff House. The security guard in the gate house flagged us down.
Frank wound down his window. “What is it?” he asked in irritation.
The security guard looked younger than me. He had slicked back, fair hair and pimples on his cheeks.
“Sorry, Frank, but this evening’s function is invite only,” he said and tucked his thumbs behind his belt, puffing out his chest. “Can’t let you in, I’m afraid.”
The colour of Frank’s face made me concerned for his blood pressure.
I leaned across Frank, trying to get the security guard’s attention. “I am invited. Frank is just dropping me off.”
The security guard looked me over, a little too intently for my liking, his gaze finally settling on my cleavage. “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let Frank’s truck near the house.”
“For heaven’s sake, Jimmy. Your father’s going to hear about this,” Frank snapped. “Do you really expect her to walk down the gravel driveway in those shoes?” Frank pointed down at my gold strappy sandals.
The security guard peered into the car, getting an eyeful of my shoes. He wet his lips. “That ain’t my problem, Frank.”
“Oh, yeah?” Frank stamped on the gas pedal, and wheels spat out gravel as we sped passed the guard.
I turned to Frank. “Jesus, Frank. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Frank snorted. “Jimmy? That boy won’t do anything. He’s a puffed up waste of space just like his father.”
Frank slowed down as we approached the house.
In the summer, it didn’t get dark until after nine, and now in the setting sun, the house appeared to glow.
“Sure is something, isn’t it?” Frank said.
I nodded, staring up at the majestic house, soaking the image in. It was beautiful.
Expensive Mercedes, Ferraris and Bentleys were parked up, waiting for the valet service. I did see the security guard’s point. Frank’s truck didn’t exactly fit in around here. Like me, I thought, a cold feeling of dread building in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn’t go in. Maybe this was a mistake…
I bit my lip and turned to Frank.
He smiled at me, and as if he could read my mind, he said, “You’ll knock ’em dead.”
I smiled, thanked him for the lift and climbed down from the truck.
My heels immediately sank into the gravel, and I had to take a few wobbly steps before I made it safely to the stone path at the entrance. I stood there for a moment, watching Frank’s truck rumble away and wished I was in the truck leaving with him.
“Can I be of assistance?” a tall man wearing evening dress asked me and handed me a program.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Pah,” a nasal voice sounded behind me. “She’s just the artist, not a proper guest.”
It was Carter, of course. I really didn’t know what he had against me, but his words actually did me a favour. I tilted my head up, tossed my hair and breezed through the entrance, ignoring him.
Inside the Great Hall, my eyes were immediately drawn to the mural. As Mrs. Wicker had said, uplighters had been used to highlight the mural. The dazzling light glinted off the gold leaf and made the pinks and greys even warmer and more beautiful. It felt really good to think I’d helped uncover its beauty again after it had been practically destroyed by the red paint.
After I’d managed to tear my eyes away from the mural, I noticed what the other guests were wearing.
Damn, it was a black tie event.
The women wore extravagant jewellery, diamonds and pearls, hanging from their necks. My hand reached up to finger the thin, plain gold chain around my neck. Every woman I saw wore an ankle-length gown. I looked down at my own bare legs and the strappy, gold sandals. Compared to the other guests, I looked cheap. I should have bought something new.
“Ah, here she is. The lovely Miss Katherine Taylor, our very own miracle worker.”
I turned to see Colin Easton beaming at me. A short, balding, plump man stood next to him watching me curiously.
“Hello,” I murmured, trying to tug down my skirt and smile at them at the same time.
“This,” Colin said, pointing to the man beside him, “is Pierre Duvall. He was very impressed with your work on the mural.”
Behind Pierre’s back, Colin waggled his eyebrows, making me smile. I knew he was trying to help me out and get me more business.
I gave Pierre Duvall my business card and spent a few minutes chatting to him about my work. He did seem interested, which raised my hopes, but he also seemed very interested in my shoes. Throughout our conversation, his eyes continually returned to my legs.
After we finished speaking to Pierre Duvall, Colin escorted me around the room, introducing me to various acquaintances who might be in need of some art restoration in the near future. He was so sweet I could have kissed him.
Colin had left me chatting to a lady who owned a collection of Spaniel paintings when I felt a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. I turned my head slowly and saw Benjamin Easton in the centre of the room. He was watching me intently.
His gaze travelled the length of my body then returned to linger on my shoes. A slow, sexy smile crept across his mouth. He was dressed in formal evening wear and looked amazing. I imagined slipping my fingers beneath his white shirt and feeling his firm chest.
The lady I had been talking to touched my arm. “Are you all right, my dear? You look a little shaken.”
I tore my eyes away from Benjamin. “Yes. I think it must be a little warm in here,” I said, fanning myself.
“Yes. At this time of year the evenings can be humid. I always say...”
I tried to pay attention, but my head was spinning. I looked around for Benjamin, but he had disappeared.
Chapter 7
I’d just given
