Liz didn’t look back at the retreating stranger until she was sure there was a good amount of distance between them. He was tall—but then again, most men were taller than her. But for some reason, the stranger’s height did something to her, made her feel… small. She’d never felt small in her life before.
Curious now, she turned and watched him fully. He didn’t look back as he made his leave, only strolled towards the exit in an easy, casual saunter with his head titled back. Though she couldn’t hear him, Liz was almost positive he was whistling.
His hair was the sort of blond that didn’t know if it wanted to really be blond, or brown instead. He was more on the lean side than he was muscular, but was by no means skinny. There was no denying that he was handsome, even to herself.
But what made Liz pause to look at him was the way he made her feel when he towered over her. Tall men didn’t intimidate Liz. She had power in her small size, knowledge and wisdom on her sharp tongue that made her bigger than she really was. But that stranger… he had protected her from Hunter’s aggression. She could feel a bit of a warm and fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach, something akin to security. Yes, he actually made her feel safe. She swallowed. The shadow he had cast over her frame didn’t make her stand back and cock her chin up to do battle with him. Instead, she had stayed in the shadow and allowed him to save her from Hunter. Allowed him to fight her battle.
How odd.
Liz watched him as he finally made it to the door. Before he went outside, he looked over his shoulder at her. Their eyes caught but Liz didn’t move her gaze away from his. They stared at each other for a moment and then a slow smile began to creep over his face. Liz didn’t smile. She just stared at him until he winked and walked out the door.
Something hot hit her stomach. The morning’s bagel didn’t seem to be sitting well with her. Maybe the cream cheese was expired.
Even so, she didn’t turn back around when he was out of sight. Seeing his face full on like that nagged at her, as if the stranger wasn’t quite the stranger she thought he was. Did she know him from somewhere?
Doesn’t matter, she told herself as she faced the painting again. The chances of ever seeing him again were slim. Perhaps she had seen him in the newspaper earlier this morning and just forgot.
Dismissing the thought, Liz moved on to the next piece. But it was more difficult to focus this time around. The image of Hunter swirled in her head, the anger that had been radiating off him as he demanded that she talked to him. She’d never seen him act that way before, but she figured that men with wounded pride didn’t know how anything about composure. Imagine seeking her out all the way to this place. How did he even know she was here? Had he been keeping tabs on her?
After a moment, Liz shook her head, dismissing the thoughts creeping into her mind. Not possible. Hunter wasn’t that odd, and she was a good judge of character. She would have known if he was the type to grow so clingy that he wouldn’t be able to let her go when the time arose. As a matter of fact, she made sure to choose men who understood when to take a step back, independent men who didn’t need her—other than for sexual gratification. Maybe she had overlooked Hunter’s pride, but she was sure he wasn’t a creep who would try to get her back at any cost.
Even so, she was grateful to the stranger for helping her out of that situation. Hunter was becoming much too persistent, and she wasn’t sure what measures she would have to take to get him to leave her alone. Liz was sure she could have been able to handle it herself, no doubt. But with that stranger showing up, she’d had the chance of getting out of there without resorting to drastic measures. What a godsend he had been.
Again, Liz shook her head, vigorously this time, trying to banish the image of the stranger from her head. The persistent thought that she knew him from somewhere still nagged at her and kept her from concentrating on the reason she was here in the first place—to view art.
She was so distracted that she didn’t see the man in her way until she bumped right into him. “My apologies,” she said instantly.
The man turned, flashing his own apologetic smile that had his laugh lines deepening. “Oh, no, it was my bad. I wasn’t seeing where I was going.”
Liz flashed him the smallest of smiles, intending on skirting around him, but the man frowned, stepping back into her path when she attempted to do so. He squinted. “I know you,” he said. “Aren’t you one of the curators of the Hallston Gallery.”
She met his eyes. “Why, yes. Who are you?”
The man’s wide smile had returned. “Don’t you remember me? I bought an old piece off your hands a couple years back. The Young Man and the Sea?”
She remembered the painting. She also remembered dealing with his agent and not him, so there was no way of knowing what his face looked like. It was the artwork she cared about, the lengths she had gone through to get it and the hefty reward she had received as a result. Not mention the fact that his agent had been a pain in the ass.
“Maybe you remember my agent, Analise?” he said. “You might be wondering where you should know this ugly face from.”
Liz smiled a little more at the self-deprecating joke. “And here I was thinking it’s a good thing I worked with Analise, seeing that I would be distracted by how handsome you are.”
The man chortled. Mr. Grenville. Yes, that was his name.
Normally, Liz wouldn’t mind chatting with clients to keep up the good relationship, but she wasn’t in the mood today. With everything that happened with Hunter and that stranger, she was much too unsettled to strike up conversation with anyone else. She had come here to relax and enjoy herself by surrounding herself with the things she loved. Instead, she was running into too many people, who were disrupting her peace in too many different ways.
“It was lovely finally meeting you, Mr. Grenville,” she said. “But I have some business I need to take care of so, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, of course not, of course not. You have a good day, Elizabeth.” Just as she was about to walk off, he clapped his hands. “Oh, one second! I’ve been meaning to go back to your gallery for a while, but seeing that you’re here, I might as well just say it now. There’s a painting I want to buy.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Grenville, I’m on vacation. You’ll have to get someone else for that.”
“You are?” His eyes widened with disappointment. “That’s much too bad. I was hoping I could have your skill on this one. It’s a tricky one, you see.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Tricky how?”
“The painting is in Italy. The problem is, it’s gone missing.”
“Missing?”
“Well, maybe saying ‘missing’ is a bit too much. I have a tendency to get overdramatic. In fact, it could be anywhere in the world, but the last place it was known to be was there. That’s where the artist lives.” He came closer, as if sharing a secret with her. Liz eagerly listened. “Have you heard of Alessandro Ricci?”
Liz’s heartbeat spiked with excitement. “Who hasn’t? The painter of The Gorge!”
“He’s announced that his newest painting is finished.”
“When?” Liz demanded, frowning at him. If Alessandro Ricci had announced that he finished his new painting, she would have definitely heard something about it.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Mr. Grenville said quickly. “It wasn’t an announcement to the press. I only found out when one of his maids slipped the information and my assistant picked it up. I like to keep tabs on him because of his work, if you get what I mean.”
Oh, she did. She did the same, although she was impressed by this man’s creepy ability to have found such private information so easily. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Grenville?”
“I want the painting. Before it goes up for auction, I want the painting for myself. I’m sure you can help me with that.” He sighed heavily. “But you say you’re on vacation, so I suppose I’ll just have to find someone else.”
Not if she could help it. Mr. Grenville was one of the richest clients she had. And such juicy information on Alessandro was too much to give up, vacation or not. Liz straightened her back a bit more, trying to keep the excitement from her eyes. “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, Mr. Grenville,” she said and the man perked up instantly, understanding.
“Good. You know how to find me. Hope to hear from you soon, dear.”
“Absolutely, you will.”
He grinned, then threw up a hand in farewell as he made his leave. Liz turned back to the paintings without seeing any of them, a smile playing around her lips. If she came to Harold with this, he had to take her back. There was no way he would let anyone deal with this job but her. Vacation was great and all, but to Liz, nothing could beat the thrill she got from her job.