Dawn in Eclipse Bay (17 page)

“For years I blamed most of what wasn't good in my childhood, including my parents' deaths, on the fact that they were both involved in the world of art,” he said finally. “Maybe, in my kid brain, the mystique of the wild, uncontrolled, temperamental, artistic personality was convenient. Better than the alternative, at any rate.”

“What was the alternative?”

“That we Madisons were seriously flawed; that we couldn't manage the self-control thing.”

“But you've proved that theory wrong, haven't you? I've never met anyone with more self-control.”

He looked at her. “You don't exactly fit the image of the temperamental, self-centered artist who has no room in her life for anything except her art, either.”

“Okay. I think we've successfully established that neither of us fits whatever preconceptions we might have had.”

“Why did you bring me here tonight, Lillian? I know it wasn't because you needed to pick up some supplies.”

She looked around at her paint-spattered studio. “Maybe I wanted to find out how you really felt about arty types.”

He raised one hand and traced the cowl neckline of her black dress. His finger grazed her throat. “Let's see where we stand here. We've established that you don't think I'm a machine.”

She caught her breath at his touch. “And you don't think I'm typical of what you call the arty type.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“I don't know,” she whispered.

He lowered his head until his mouth hovered just above hers. “I think we ought to find out, don't you?”

“Sex is probably not the best way to explore that issue.”

He kissed her slowly, lingeringly. When he raised his head she saw the hunger in him. She felt her blood heat.

“Can you think of a better way to explore it?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Not right at the moment.”

He put one hand on her knee just beneath the hem of the little black dress. His smiled slowly and eased the skirt higher. She caught the ends of his silk tie in her hands and drew him closer.

He took the invitation the way a shark takes prey; smoothly and swiftly, leaving her no time to consider the wisdom of moving back into shallower waters.

Between one heartbeat and the next, he was between her knees, using his thighs to part her legs and open her to him. The black dress was up to her hips now, leaving only a scrap of midnight-colored lace as a barrier to his hand. It proved woefully inadequate to the task. She felt the silk grow damp at his touch.

She gripped the ends of the necktie and hung on for the ride.

He roused himself a long time later, sated and content. For the moment, at any rate. He sat up on the edge of the worktable. Beside him Lillian was curled amid scattered sheets of drawing paper, brushes, and tubes of paint. Her hair had come free from the sleek knot in which it had been arranged earlier in the evening. The little black dress that had looked so elegant and tasteful at the head table was now crumpled in an extremely interesting, very sexy and no doubt less-than-tasteful manner. But it looked terrific on her that way, he thought.

His tie was now looped around her throat instead of his own. He grinned, remembering how it had gotten switched in the middle of the lovemaking.

She stirred. “What are you staring at?”

“A work of art.”

“Hmm.” She nodded once in appreciation. “A work of art. That was pretty quick, Madison.”

“Pretty quick, you mean for a man who is still recovering from a truly mind-blowing experience?”

“Gosh. Was that your mind?” Her smile was very smug. “I didn't realize.”

He grinned. “I handed you that line on a platter. Admit it.”

“I admit it. You're good, you know that?”

“At the moment, I'm a lot better than good.” He leaned down to kiss her bare hip. “I'm terrific. What about you?”

“I think I'll survive.” She hauled herself up on her elbows and surveyed herself. “But the dress is dead meat.”

“I'm sure there are plenty more where it came from.”

“Probably. Department stores are full of little black dresses.” She noticed the tie around her neck and frowned. “How did that get there?”

He eased himself off the table, stood and stretched. “Some questions are better left unanswered.”

He studied a canvas propped against the wall directly across from him as he zipped his trousers and buckled his belt. It was another one of her unique, riveting creations, all hot, intense light and dark, disturbing shadows. He felt it reaching out to pull him into that world, just as her other works did. He had to force himself to look away from it.

He turned his head and saw that the sensual, teasing laughter that had gleamed in her eyes a moment ago had evaporated. She was watching him in the same way that he had looked at the painting, as if she were wary of being sucked into his universe.

“Does this mean we're having an affair?” she asked.

Curious. Polite. Very cool. Just asking.

Her deliberately casual air wiped out a lot of the satisfaction that he had been enjoying. Whatever was going on here was a long way from settled.

“Yes,” he said. I think we'd better call this an affair. I don't see that we have any real choice.”

She sat up slowly and dangled her legs off the edge of the worktable. “Why is that?”

She had small, delicate ankles and beautifully arched feet, he noticed. Her toenails were painted scarlet. And here he'd never considered himself a foot man.

He walked back to the table, fitted his hands to her waist, lifted her and set her on her feet. He did not release her. “Be sort of awkward to have to admit that we're into one- and two-night stands, wouldn't it?”

“Might make us both look extremely shallow and superficial.”

“Can't have that,” he said easily. “Come on, let's go back to your apartment. We need some sleep. Got a long drive back to Eclipse Bay tomorrow morning.”

A deceptively bright sun supplied light but very little heat to Eclipse Bay. Small whitecaps snapped and sparkled on the water. The brisk breeze promised another storm soon. They drove through the community's small business district on the way back to the cottage. Lillian noticed that the handful of men standing around a truck at the town's only gas station were huddled into goose-down vests and heavy windbreakers.

Sandy Hickson, the owner of the station, spotted Gabe's car and waved a casual greeting. His companions turned to glance at the vehicle. Even from where she sat, Lillian thought she could see the open speculation in their eyes.

A Harte and a Madison could not even drive through Eclipse Bay together without drawing interested gazes.

“Small town,” Gabe said. He sounded completely unruffled by the attention.

“Very.”

“Not like there's a heck of a lot to do around here in the middle of winter. It's almost like we've got a social obligation to bring a little excitement to town.”

“Since when did Madisons worry about their social obligations?”

“Since we started hanging out more with you Hartes. You're a bad influence on us.”

She noticed the illuminated message indicator on the answering machine when she walked into the Harte family cottage a short time later.

Gabe saw it too. “Got a hunch Mitchell ratted us out.”

“Looks that way. Probably my mother. Great.” She put down the carton of painting supplies she had carried in from the car. “I'll deal with it later.”

“Thought you said your folks were on a business trip in San Diego.”

“They are. But you know as well as I do that gossip travels fast among the Hartes and the Madisons, especially since the wedding.”

“Well, we both knew we wouldn't be able to keep this a secret. And it's not as if we're not all adults here.”

He sounded a little too philosophical, she thought. Downright upbeat, in fact. As if the prospect of explaining away a red-hot affair between a Harte and a Madison was no big deal. Just a walk in the park.

“Yeah, right,” she said. “We're all adults here.”

He set her suitcase in the hall and looked at her, brows raised in polite inquiry. “Need backup?”

“From a Madison? That would be like pouring oil on a burning fire.”

“We Madisons are good at that.”

“I'll remember that the next time I'm trying to start a blaze instead of putting one out.”

“This is going to be a tough fire to put out,” he said softly.

She did not know if she ought to take that as a warning or just another teasing remark. Upon brief reflection, she decided it would be best to assume the latter.

“I'm an adult,” she said. “I make my own decisions. My parents know that.”

“Uh-huh.” He looked unconvinced but he turned to walk toward the door. “Well, if you don't need my assistance in pacifying your mother, I'll be on my way. See you for dinner.”

He said it with such breathtaking casualness, she thought. Taking the concept of dinner together for granted. The unspoken expectation of spending the night was very clear. He was moving right into her daily routine, making himself comfortable.

Well? They had both agreed that they were starting an affair, hadn't they? Why the sudden qualms?

But the answer was there in the next heartbeat. For all her fine talk of being a grown-up, the bottom line here was that getting involved with Gabe was a dangerous business.

“Why don't we go out tonight?” she said on sudden impulse.

Dining out in public would be more like a date. She could handle a date with him. Dates were more structured, more ritualized. They were not infused with quite the same degree of casual intimacy as cooking dinner together and eating it at the kitchen table. A date allowed her to keep a little distance. So what if they went back to his place later and made wild, passionate love. Some people did that after a date. Or so she had heard.

“Fine.”

Something told her that he had guessed what was going through her mind. But he did not argue. Instead, he walked out onto the porch.

“I'll pick you up. Six-thirty okay?”

“I can meet you at your place.” She went to stand in the doorway. “It's a short walk.”

“No. It'll be dark. I don't want you walking alone after dark.”

“There's nothing to worry about. We're not exactly crime central around here. Especially in the dead of winter.”

“Eclipse Bay isn't the same town it was when you and I were kids. It's not just the summer tourists who cause trouble around here now. Chamberlain College is expanding and so is the institute. I'd rather you didn't stroll around on your own after the sun goes down.”

She propped one shoulder against the door frame, amused, and crossed her arms. “Are you always this bossy?”

“I'm cautious, not bossy.”

“And maybe a tad inclined to be overcontrolling?”

“Sure, but hey, isn't everyone?” He brushed his mouth across hers. “Humor me, okay?”

“Okay. This time.”

He nodded, satisfied and went down the steps. “See you later. Good luck with your painting.”

“What are you going to do this afternoon?”

He paused and looked back over his shoulder. “I'm going to go online to do some deep background research on a potential Madison Commercial client. Why?”

She made a face. “Have fun.”

“I thought I explained to you that what I do at M.C. is called work, not fun.” He gave her his slow, sexy Madison smile. “Fun comes later, after work. I'll show you.”

He walked to the Jag, opened the door and got behind the wheel.

Back at the beginning she had made the mistake of assuming that he was a victim of burnout because he claimed that running Madison Commercial was not fun for him. In one sense, she thought, he was right. But work wasn't the correct label, either, although it was the one he preferred. The truth was, Madison Commercial was his passion.

Passion wasn't fun. Passion was serious stuff.

She had always understood that distinction intuitively when it came to her painting. Now she was starting to understand it about her relationship with Gabe, as well. Serious stuff.

She went back into the house, closed the door and crossed to the phone to listen to her messages. There were two, she noticed. The first was, as she had expected, from her mother.

Might as well get this over with fast. She braced herself and dialed the number of the hotel room in San Diego.

We're all adults here
.

Elaine Harte answered on the second ring. In typical maternal fashion, she did not take long to come to the point.

“What in the world is going on up there in Eclipse Bay?” she asked without preamble.

“Long story.”

“Your grandfather phoned yesterday. He and your father talked for a very long time. It was not what anyone would call a cheerful, lighthearted conversation. I haven't heard those two go at it like that in years. Sullivan says that you've closed Private Arrangements for good. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“But, darling, why?” Elaine's voice rose in that practiced wail of dismay that is unique to mothers around the world. “You were doing so well.”

Elaine did not actually add
at last
but it was there, silently tacked on to the end of the sentence.

“You know why, Mom.”

There was a short silence, then Elaine sighed.

“Your painting,” she said.

The whining tone had vanished from her voice as if by magic, Lillian noticed. Smart moms also knew when to abandon a tactic that no longer worked.

“I've been thinking about this for a long time, Mom. I need to see if I can make it happen.”

“Can't you keep Private Arrangements going while you find out if you can make a living with art? You've always painted in the evenings and on weekends.”

Lillian flopped down on the sofa and stacked her heels on the coffee table. “I feel that the time has come to put my art at the top of my agenda. I need to concentrate on it. The fact is, after a full day at Private Arrangements, I'm tired, Mom. I don't have a lot of energy left for my work.”

My
work
. She was using the word, herself, she realized, mildly astonished. The same way Gabe used it, to describe the important thing that she did. Painting wasn't a hobby. It wasn't fun. It wasn't entertainment. It was her passion.

“And if the painting doesn't go well?” Elaine said. “Will you reopen Private Arrangements? You still have your program and your client list, don't you?”

“I can't think about that now, Mom. I have to stay focused.”

“You sound just like your father and your grandfather when you say things like that.” Elaine hesitated and then probed further. “Sullivan told your father something else. He said that you and Gabe Madison are seeing each other…socially.”

Lillian laughed in spite of tension. “I'll bet he said a lot more than that.”

Elaine cleared her throat. “I believe he used the phrase ‘shacking up together.'”

“I
knew
it.” Lillian took her heels off the table and sat up on the edge of the sofa. “Mitchell Madison did squeal to Granddad. Interesting that he went straight to Sullivan with the news, isn't it? I wonder why he did that.”

There was another brief pause.

“So it's true?” Elaine asked, her voice grim.

“Afraid so.” Lillian hunched around the phone in her hand. “But I prefer the phrase ‘seeing each other socially' to ‘shacking up together.'”

“Men of Mitchell's and Sullivan's age have a different view of these matters. And a different vocabulary to describe them.”

“Guess so.”

“If you don't mind my asking, how does Gabe describe your, uh, relationship?”

We're all adults here
.

“I haven't actually asked him that question. Not in so many words. Look, Mom, I know you mean well, but this conversation is getting a bit personal. I'm perfectly capable of handling my own private life.”

“When Hartes and Madisons get together in Eclipse Bay, there is no such thing as a private life,” Elaine said.

“Okay, I'll give you that. But I'm still capable of dealing with things here.”

“You're sure?”

“Of course, I'm sure. Mom, I'm not in high school anymore. Or even college, for that matter. I've been getting by out there in the big bad world all on my own for quite a while now.”

“You haven't had to deal with the complications of having a Madison in your life.”

“Gabe is a different kind of Madison, remember? He's the one who made it through college and built a very successful business. When I was a kid, I recall Dad saying that Gabe was the one Madison who proved the exception to the rule that all Madisons were bound to come to a bad end.”

“Yes, dear, I know.” Another short silence hummed on the line. “But between you and me, Gabe was the one I worried about the most.”

That stopped Lillian cold. “You did?”

Elaine was quiet for a moment. Lillian could almost hear her thinking about the past.

“I wasn't the only one who was concerned about him,” Elaine said eventually. “Isabel and I discussed him often. Even as a little boy, Gabe always seemed too self-contained, too controlled. He never lost his temper, never got in trouble at school. Always got good grades. It just wasn't natural.”

“You mean for a Madison?”.

“No, I mean for a little boy. Any little boy.”

“Oh.”

“It was as if he always had his own private agenda. Looking back, I can see that he must have been driven, even then, by his vision of building a business empire.”

“I think you're right,” Lillian said. “He needed to prove something to himself. But he accomplished his goal.”

“People who are compelled by a lifelong ambition do not change, even after it appears to everyone else around them that they have achieved that ambition. In my experience they remain driven. It's a deeply imbedded characteristic.”

A Madison and his passion.

“Mom, listen, I really don't—”

“I don't want to intrude on your personal life, but I
am
your mother.”

“I know.” Lillian sighed. “You gotta do what a mom's gotta do.”

“I think you should assume that nothing has changed with Gabe.”

“What?”

“Madison Commercial was always the most important thing in his life. It still is. If anything, all that single-minded determination and willpower he used to get to where he is today has only become more honed through the years.”