Sparks Fly (9 page)

“Where are you taking me?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “This trip is on a need-to-know basis. And you, sweet Angelina, don’t need to know.”

A few minutes later they arrived at the site of a small carnival, complete with a Ferris wheel, a miniature roller coaster, an arcade and a booth selling cotton candy and toffee covered popcorn.

He was out in a flash to open her car door. Her hand in his, he made a beeline for the Ferris wheel.

“Madam,” he said as he paid for their tickets and helped her into the slightly sticky seat, “your carriage awaits.”

Amazingly, Angelina really did feel like a princess. They inched closer and closer to the top as the rest of the passengers boarded. When they reached the very top, he said, “When I was a kid I thought this was the top of the world. I would save all my paper route money and come here with a fistful of nickels, just to see what the world looked like from the sky, over and over again.”

Angelina followed his gaze out across the lake to the thick forest beyond. “It’s incredibly beautiful.”

“Every summer I’d memorize this picture, trying to keep it with me for the next nine months until I could come back.”

She felt like she was looking straight into his heart. “Couldn’t you have taken a photograph back with you?”

“A picture could never do this justice. I tried to paint it once in college, but...” He stopped short.

Angelina was so shocked to find out Will could paint, that for a moment she was utterly speechless. By the time she regained the use of her tongue, all she could manage was a lame, “I didn’t know you painted.” Realizing what an idiot she sounded like, she added, “Except for finger paints, that is.”

He gave her a confused look, so she explained, “Your mother told me how you used to smear finger paints all over the house when you were a little boy.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “Funny. I don’t remember that.”

She laughed. “She definitely does.” Will grinned and Angelina fit the puzzle pieces together.

“You really take after her, don’t you?”

“I wish. I used to fiddle with painting in college, but eventually I accepted that the only way I was ever going to make a living was out in the real world, working in an office like everyone else.”

Even as she listened to Will’s disparaging remarks about his artistic talent, or lack-thereof, Angelina guessed he was being far harder on himself than any art critic or teacher could have ever been. Not only was he discounting all of his special talents that made it possible for him to start a Fortune 500 company, but she could hear the passion and longing in his voice when he talked about painting, no matter how he tried to disguise it.

Too soon their ride was over and she lost her chance to probe deeper into Will’s artistic past.

He grabbed her hand and directed them across the park to the mini roller-coaster. After they were seated, Angelina said, “You should know, I’m not very good on roller coasters.”

Will gestured to the pint-sized ride. “Even ones with butterflies and sunflowers?”

“Even those.” At his look of disbelief she explained, “When I was about five a fair came to our town in Idaho. It had a roller coaster like this one and I begged my father to let me ride it, even though he said I was too small.”

Will gave Angelina a slow smile. “Let me guess. You didn’t give up until you got your way.”

She lightly punched him in the arm before continuing her story. “I still remember that ride. It was the scariest thing I had ever done. I screamed ‘Let me off!’ the entire time.”

He was obviously trying to hold in his laughter. “Go ahead,” she said, poking a finger in his chest, “laugh at me. But just wait until this thing gets going and I scream so loud you go deaf.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “You probably just needed someone to hold you tight.”

She tensed as the ride started, but his body was so warm against hers, and his arms felt so safe around her, she was surprised to find herself actually enjoying it.

A couple of minutes later when the coaster came to a stop, he helped her step safely back to the ground. “So, how was it?”

She smiled up at him. “I can’t believe it,” she marveled. “It was almost fun!”

“Now that’s a resounding endorsement for the hug-you-tight technique.” Putting one arm around her, he steered them toward the cotton candy booth. “Now that we’ve worked up an appetite, it’s time for sustenance.”

He bought them each a huge stick of cotton candy and an enormous bag of popcorn to share between them. They took their feast out to the end of the public pier and stuffed themselves.

Mouth full of sticky spun sugar, Angelina said, “I don’t normally eat this kind of stuff.

Will gave her a wolfish glance. “It shows.”

She blushed and stuffed a hunk of cotton candy into his mouth so he couldn’t say anything else to embarrass her.

“Mmph, mmph, mmph,” he grunted.

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to talk with your mouth full?” she scolded, her eyes twinkling.

Finally, after another couple of sticky bites, Angelina’s aching stomach got her attention.

“Ugh,” she said, sitting back against the chair with her hands holding her flat stomach. “I just had one too many mouthfuls of sugar.”

“Me too,” he said, tossing the rest of his cotton candy into a nearby garbage.

As they sat next to each other, feet dangling over the end of the pier, Angelina thought about how good it felt to be with Will. Just hanging out and having fun, Angelina felt like she had everything in the world that she would ever need.

Could it be? Had she finally been able to work her Feng Shui Cupid magic on herself?

By the time they made it back to Will’s mother’s house, Joyce was up and painting at her easel in the living room.

“How was the carnival?”

Angelina opened her mouth to ask how Joyce could have possibly known that they were at the fair, but Will reached for one of her hands and held it up. “Pink hands. This stuff is impossible to wash off. She always caught me when I tried to sneak junk food.”

“Which was, if I recall correctly, every single day,” Joyce added, trying to assume a repressive motherly look and failing.

Angelina laughed, enjoying the interaction between Will and his mother. Still, she couldn’t help but think that she should have been working with her client all this time. “I’m sure you didn’t fly me all the way out here to ride roller coasters and eat cotton candy with your son, so if you will just give me a moment to wash up, we can get started. If you’re up to it, of course.”

“Go ahead and take your time washing up. I need to clean out my brushes anyway.”

When Angelina had left the room and closed the guest bedroom door firmly behind her, Will said, “If she only knew how wrong she is,” he muttered.

“Speak up sonny-boy, old ladies are present.”

Will barked out a laugh. “Playing that old lady card again, are you? As if you won’t be able to outrun me the day you get out of that wheelchair.” Noting the smug look on his mother’s face, he turned the tables. “All I was saying was that you did, in fact, fly her all the way out here to ride roller coasters and eat cotton candy with your son.”

Joyce tried to affect a bewildered look, but when Will said, “Just admit it,” she let it fall away.

He would have said more, but his cell phone rang and he excused himself to answer it outside on the front porch.

Joyce breathed a sigh of relief that she had been saved by the bell. Not that she felt she had anything to apologize for, of course. From everything she had seen so far between her son and Angelina, it seemed that her matchmaking plan was working quite well indeed.

* * *

Angelina washed her hands with soap and hot water in the guest bathroom and wondered about the glowing woman staring back at her in the mirror. Her eyes were brighter with something stronger than sugar or carnival rides.

She looked like a woman who was falling in love.

She loved the way Will cared for his mother. She loved how hard he tried to be the man of the house when his father left. She loved the way he made her laugh and how he held her tight when she was frightened on the roller coaster.

And, oh, did she love his kisses.

Alarmed by the strength of her feelings, Angelina splashed her face with cool water then let it run over her hands until they were practically numb.

She hoped she could mask her feelings from his mother, even though she was pretty sure it was a pointless endeavor. Joyce noticed everything around her—so there was no way she could be blind to the way Angelina felt about her son.

Joyce was just laying her last brush down to dry in the kitchen when Angelina stepped into the living room.

“Where should we start?”

Angelina quickly scanned the room and noted that Will was gone. “The kitchen is just fine.”

Angelina hoped they could get through the open kitchen, dining and living room before Will reappeared. She had a terrible hunch that if he was in the room, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything at all.

Working on the main rooms in the cottage ended up being a quick affair, just as Angelina had thought it might be. They moved a rocking chair to a different corner in the living room so that people wouldn’t trip over it. Then they put up a small mirror behind the stove so that Joyce would be able to see what was going on behind her while she was cooking.

When they moved into the guest bedroom, Angelina said, “Joyce, this watercolor above the bed is one of the most beautiful paintings I have ever seen.”

“I agree. Will has more innate talent than any painter I have ever known.”

Angelina’s mouth fell open. “Will created this masterpiece?” Quickly, she put two and two together. “He painted the watercolor ocean-scape in his house too, didn’t he?”

“He certainly did,” Joyce replied, full of pride. “He was only twenty-one.”

Before Angelina could remind herself to keep a professional distance, she said, “But Joyce, Will told me today how he wasn’t good enough. How he had to accept his lack of talent and get a normal job to earn a paycheck. But you know what? I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t. Not when I heard the passion for art in his voice. I saw his love of painting in his eyes.”

She looked up finally, realizing she had just aired all of her private thoughts – and feelings - to Will’s mother.

“Forgive me,” she said, feeling horribly embarrassed. “I don’t mean to be babbling like this.

I’m just so surprised.”

Joyce patted her hand. “No need to apologize to me. I know exactly how you feel. The day he came home with all of his brushes and canvases packed up in a crate, telling me he was finished painting, saying he was done fooling around, it broke my heart.”

As they made their way through the rest of the house, Angelina couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the boy who had wanted to be a painter, but gave it up to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders instead?

* * *

They had just walked back into the kitchen when Will stepped inside, stuffing his cell phone back into his pocket. It was clear to both women that something was very wrong.

He ran his right hand through his hair. “I’ve got to get back to California right away.” In answer to both women’s perplexed stares, he said, “Looks like the new CFO is trying to convince the board to have me removed.” Turning to his mother, he asked, “Will you be all right without me?”

Joyce patted his hand. “I’ll be fine. I’m just glad you were able to come at all. Soon you can come back out for a vacation.”

“How would you like a ride back in my private jet?” Will asked Angelina. “It’s waiting for us at the airstrip.”

Angelina looked back and forth from Will to Joyce trying to make up her mind. “Your mother already purchased a first class ticket for me and I don’t want to waste her money.”

“Don’t worry,” Joyce said, a grin on her lips. “I used Will’s money to pay for your tickets. It's the only time I’ve ever used that ridiculous trust fund he set up for me. I should really give it to charity.

Go with him. His private plane is really fun.”

As soon as Angelina left the room, Will spoke softly. “Thanks, Mom, for bringing Angelina here.”

Will couldn’t say anything more. Not until he and Angelina talked about their future—a future he wanted more than anything.

Joyce wheeled up to Will and kissed him softly on the cheek. “You’re welcome.”

Angelina hugged Joyce goodbye and ten minutes later she was walking up the small flight of steps that led to the interior of Will’s private plane. It was more sumptuous than anything she could have imagined. He gave her a tour and she was amazed to find that the jet even had a bedroom on board.

Moving back into the seating area, she remarked, “This is even better than first class.”

Will laughed. “It’s not bad.”

“Take it for granted, do you?”

He looked around at the thick leather seats, the huge entertainment center on the wall behind the cockpit, the decked out bar, and the bookshelf full of current magazines and his favorite books.

“No, I don’t. It’s more like I don’t always feel that I deserve it. Does that make sense?”

Angelina cocked her head to the side. “Do you really feel that way?”

Instead of answering, Will helped her get seated and then popped his head into the cockpit to give the pilot the go-ahead.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Whatever you want,” Angelina said, intent on their conversation. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

He poured each of them a glass of Merlot, then sat down and buckled in. “Sometimes it feels like the life I’ve built for myself isn’t the one I’m supposed to be living. It’s funny, isn’t it,” he said,

“how one day we wake up and wonder why we’re where we are?”

Angelina nodded and took a sip of red wine for courage. Throwing caution to the wind, she said, “Your painting in the guest room is absolutely stunning.”

A myriad of expressions crossed Will’s face—surprise mixed with pride, finally ending with a shuttering of his eyes, which had been so open to her just moments before.