The Art of Appreciation (18 page)

She wrapped her fingers inside the front of his shirt. “I have plans for you.”

“I suppose I can set an alarm or something, because you know I’m going to sleep afterward.”

Abby’s stomach tightened with need and anticipation, and she backed up the porch steps, towing Matt by his shirt. “No need for an alarm, unless you want one. I want you to stay.”

Matt smiled before cradling her against his body, giving her a slow, soft kiss that left her breathless.

M
ATT
L
EFT
T
HE
B
EDROOM
C
AUTIOUSLY
, peering across the hall toward the bathroom and Sarah’s open door. He didn’t want to chance running into Sarah in just his boxers.

“Abby?” he called. Silence. “Sarah?”

“Well, shit,” he muttered, grabbing his shirt and heading down the stairs after a quick stop in the vacant bathroom. He called for Abby twice more on his way to the living room, but it was apparent that she wasn’t there. After a check out the back door, Matt faced the fact that Abby was nowhere to be found. A search of the cabinets and freezer revealed filters and coffee, and he settled down to making a pot.

As it brewed, he thought about his first reaction to finding her side of the bed cold: disappointment. He’d fallen asleep looking forward to the morning, to slow kisses and warmth and beginning one day the way he’d ended the last—with her curled up beside him. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that he was being idiotic for missing her; hell, waking up alone should make him feel free and unencumbered, the way he’d lived his life for a very long time.

He poured his coffee, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that Abby might have been trying to send him a message—that she liked their “no sleepovers” arrangement and that he’d made an ass of himself by staying. It would be no more than he’d learned to expect since childhood: a boardhead shouldn’t expect more than a businesswoman could give.

His reverie was interrupted when the French door opened and Abby entered the kitchen, carrying a box and a newspaper. His rush of relief was immediate.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” she said cheerfully. She toed off her walking shoes and shrugged out of her jacket as Matt took her burden and set it on the counter. Abby rested one hand in the open front of his shirt and reached up to kiss him. “Miss me?”

“You bet your sweet ass I did,” Matt murmured, dropping his face down to nuzzle her neck. “I thought we were going to spend the day in bed.”

Abby laughed. “I guess I’m getting used to slipping away in the dead of night.” Matt felt a pang. “I woke up an hour or so ago. You were sleeping peacefully so I went for a walk.” She reached for a cup.

Matt admired her shape in the shorts and tank she wore. As soon as she put the pot down, he was behind her, kissing her shoulder and running his hands over her hips. “Was that really necessary? I was looking forward to the morning.” He tipped her chin back so he could see her face.

“Perv,” Abby said, dipping her chin to nip at his hand. Matt jumped back, and she turned to lean against the counter. “And, yes, it was very necessary if I want this ‘sweet ass’ to stay smaller than South Dakota.”

“I like you the way you are,” Matt protested.

“And I wouldn’t stay the way I am for long if I didn’t move my arse. I rest my case.” Abby set down her cup and lifted the box lid. “Besides, it makes it possible to have one of these beauties when I get the urge.”

She revealed an assortment of pastries. Matt’s eyes zoomed in on the prize but caught only air as Abby snatched it up.

“No way. The chocolate croissant is mine,” Abby declared, holding it behind her back. She eyed the rest of his outfit. “Nice boxers. What if Sarah had come home?”

Matt feinted left and almost nabbed the pastry out of Abby’s hand. “I would have been really, really careful about the flap. Besides, I couldn’t find my jeans.” He started towing her toward the stairs. “Bed. Now.”

“Hang on, Speedy Gonzales.” Abby grabbed the pastry box and one cup of coffee. “Grab your cup and the paper, will you?”

“Do we really need those?” Matt swooped in for a kiss, making a stealthy grab for the croissant.

“We do. We really do. Because you’re going to need something to occupy yourself while I eat this delicious, chocolaty—” Abby dashed for the stairs with a screech when he lunged.

Taking the steps two at a time, Abby just had time to set the pastry and coffee down before Matt pushed her onto the bed, slid his hands under her tank top, and yanked it over her head. He dropped it beside him, kissing her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t give it to the man who does this to you?”

“Unfair. But, no, I’m eating it.”

Matt grabbed the newspaper and settled against the headboard. He shook out the front page.

Laughing, Abby sat up and curled one leg beneath her. Grabbing her pastry, she took a bite, chewing slowly and moaning in delight before she swallowed. “You’re really going to cut me off over a croissant?”

“Mmm hmm.” He held the paper out a bit further, a smile teasing the corner of his lips.

Abby sighed and took another bite. “That’s too bad. Really.” A glop of filling spread at the corner of her mouth, and she swiped it with one finger as she chewed, popping it into her mouth when she finished. Dipping a finger in the melted chocolate at the center of the flaky pastry, she brought it toward her mouth again, only to find her wrist captured in gentle fingers.

“Although…” Matt dragged the word out as the paper fell to the floor. He brought her finger to his mouth and sucked the chocolate off. “I could be persuaded, if you share.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” Abby murmured. “I have to give in?” She scooped up more of the chocolate, daubing it on Matt’s lips.

“You
want
to give in,” Matt whispered, smiling as he captured Abby’s lips in a deep kiss. She moaned and clutched at his shoulders, unintentionally squeezing the rest of the filling onto Matt’s chest. He grinned and wiped at it, taking the opportunity to transfer some of the richness to Abby’s skin while leaving some on his own. “Darn. Whatever can we do about this mess?”

Muffled ringing sent them both scrambling for cell phones. Abby muttered invectives against her persistent intern, but it was Matt’s phone under the edge of the bed that had interrupted them. He flipped it open and barked a greeting.

“Nice, Matt,” Claire drawled. “Here I thought this would be a good time to call because you’d be all sexed-up and relaxed.”

“The sexed-up part is right,” he responded. Abby whapped him on the head and headed for the bathroom. Claire’s over-bright giggle at his lame joke made him wary, though. “Why do you need me relaxed, Claire?”

“Hear me out.”

Matt sat up straighter and closed his eyes. “Shoot.”

“Well, you know Abby talked to the Peerys, right?
Steamer Lane Swell
?” Matt said nothing. Claire was incapable of dropping a topic unfinished. “They love your work. So much that they’ve been talking you up in their circle.”

“The same circle as the Bakers, who no longer care for me much. So, no net gain.”

“Not necessarily,” Claire warned. “The smart ones perceive that the Bakers know nothing about fine art, and by extension, they realize that the Peerys know a lot. Anyway, they’ve been talking, and important people are taking notice. Most particularly Mrs. Peery’s father, chairman of the board of directors for the de Young Museum. Guess who happened to find room on the calendar for a private show next weekend? Not the main gallery, of course, one of the private suites. Still…”

“I can’t do it. Nothing is ready. I have two more statues to finish by the middle of September or Baker will have my nuts.”

“Baker’s grip on your nuts is exactly why you have to do this,” Claire insisted. “What do you think the chances are that you won’t piss him off again before you’re finished? I say slim to none.” She paused but pushed on when she got no response. “Matt, these people are big league. You impress enough of them this weekend, and it won’t matter what Baker says. You have all the pieces in my gallery, which I will pay to have transported to the museum. You can’t show the Bakers’ statues, contractually, but you can show the models. I know you don’t consider them your finest work, but they’re damn good and far above the average for pool statues.” She paused for a minute. “Even unfinished, you could show—”

“Not happening,” Matt said flatly. His outright dismissal of showing Abby’s statue didn’t trouble him a bit, but the thought of having to make this decision on the fly did. “Can we wait—”

“Nope. They need to know within the hour so the arrangements can be made. Saying no to this would be the dumbest thing you could do. So?”

Matt’s thoughts raced. A week wasn’t long, but if he pushed, he could have another two models finished. “Yes. Okay. I’ll do it.”

“I thought so.” Claire’s grin could be heard in her voice. “I already took the liberty of telling Doug Peery that when I talked to him this morning. Glad you didn’t make a liar of me.”

“Claire…”

“You love me. Speaking of which, we’ll have to push our dinner party back a week. I’ll talk to Abby when she gets to the gallery. If you don’t bring her along, you’re a bonehead McSpazatron.
Ciao
.” The phone went dead, and Matt snapped it closed.

Abby re-entered the room, wrapped in a towel, hair in disarray around her face. “Was that Claire?”

“Yup.” Matt lounged across the bed and grabbed at her towel. “I love Naked Sunday. Let’s do this every week, minus your going out. Screw exercise. I’ll bring breakfast.”

Abby laughed. “Aside from this being Monday and me having kiddie art school, that sounds like a very good way to spend the rest of the summer.”

They both grew quiet, and Matt wondered if she was thinking about the end of her vacation with as much dismay as he was feeling right then. Abby let him tug the towel out of its tuck and toss it onto the floor. “By the way,” he asked, “how do you feel about spending next Naked Sunday in San Francisco?”

Up early on Saturday, Matt had just started another long day of working on his last mock-up when Abby strolled into the studio. He watched her. There was something in the lines of her body that intrigued him, made him want to cover the statue he was working on and move to his Pretty statue. She came across the room, smiling, and Matt anticipated the first contact her hand would make with his body, expecting her to lean in to kiss him. Instead, she took the knife out of his hand and laid it on the table, careful not to brush it against her clothes.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

Exhaustion made Matt question whether he’d lost several hours somehow. “But—”

“But nothing. You’ve been a machine since Monday night. I know you planned on leaving late afternoon, but we’re going right now.” She started shutting down the big halogen lights that illuminated his workspace.

It had been a very long time since someone had made a decision for him, and it delighted him. As he looked at the organized chaos surrounding him, though, his smile began to fade. “Abby, I can’t.”

“What’s the issue?”

Matt explained, and she listened in grave silence. When he was finished, he waited for her to say something. Abby studied the sculpture from all angles, turning it on the revolving table. “Screw it. You have a perfectly good set of ribs here, Matt. No one who’s going to see this knows Jason, right? So, give it a rest and stop worrying.”

Matt laughed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you are cursed with man-brain, which only travels along one track, while I am gifted with the multi-tasking marvel known as woman-brain. Chris threw your bag in the Jeep; Claire and Charles will meet us at the gallery. So, now you’re mine.” She stretched to brush a kiss on his jaw.

He rested a hand at the small of her back, curving her body toward him. “I like the sound of that.” He gestured at the statue before him. “However, unless you have a magic genie in your pocket, you have to at least let me cover this.”

“Got it, cuz.” Chris brushed past Matt, nabbed the sculpting knife off the table and headed to the sink, flip-flops slapping the concrete floor. “Good idea, girl. Get this guy out of here.”

Matt grinned, knowing that Chris would take care of his clay properly. Pulling Abby against him, he caught her mouth in a slow, hot kiss, which she returned enthusiastically.

“Get a room,” Chris bellowed, covering his eyes.

“That’s the idea.” Matt’s lips twisted into a wicked smile, and he led Abby out the door.

Driving down the coast, Matt kept the window open to help him stay alert as he pointed out the places he liked to surf and the things that made his heart sing.

“You really love it here, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Matt looked out over the ocean. “Feels like forever since I’ve been out there.” He shook himself and smiled. “What do you do at your ocean?”

“Well, not surfing. I swim, mainly. And I love sailing! I learned when I was a kid, and it’s my favorite thing to do when I’m at my parents’ place in Maine.”

“Well, then, you’ll have to take me sailing, Pretty. It’s popular here too, but I’ve never tried it.” Matt recognized that he was trying to find things to entice her to like his home, and he changed the subject before she caught onto him. “Anyway, what do you want to see in San Francisco?”

Abby’s face lit up. “Ghirardelli Square! The pier—can’t remember the number—and…Chinatown! The Golden Gate is a given. What?” she asked when Matt winced.

“Tourist stuff? Seriously?”