The Holiday Read Free Page A

her
heart sped up. She'd never admit it to anyone ,
but she'd had a fantasy or two about him in the days since he'd walked into her
gallery. Every time she thought about him striding through her entrance,
straight to her, pushing her against the wall, and kissing the breath out of
her.
    She felt a tug at her center, a
thawing that was as unexpected as the flush of attraction. It was followed by
the usual guilt at daydreaming about another woman's man.
    "I'm a wretched travel
companion," Mel continued.
    "I find that hard to
believe."
    "Trust me, love, I can be a
princess."
    Leilani smiled. That she could believe. "I'm sure
Colin counts himself lucky to be your subject."
    Mel laughed, that deep rich
cackle that made a person want to join in. "Colin rues the day he met me.
Of course, I keep reminding him that since we've been friends, his dating life
has improved."
    "Friend? I thought that you
and Colin..." She let the thought drift off.
    "Me and Colin? Good God,
no." Mel's shudder was audible over two oceans and whole continent.
"He's a dear boy, and he'll make some woman the perfect husband, but I'm
not that woman. But I didn't call to talk about Colin. I called to talk about
you."
    Shaken, she put the revelation of
Colin's status aside to analyze later. "Are you interested in a piece of
art?"
    "I'm interested in you . I'm not sure if I mentioned this,
but I have a gallery in London. King's Gallery, in Mayfair."
    "I don't believe you told me."
She'd have remembered, because King's had a reputation known throughout the
dealer world. Her interest piqued, she perched on the stool next to the
counter.
    "I show an eclectic
assortment of work. Basically, whatever I fancy. Right now I have a collection
of modern pieces, a show I'm calling 'Future Masterpieces.'"
    "And how are you interested
in me?"
    "My current show is stark.
As a contrast, I'd like my next installation to be warm, featuring work from
your local artists, but perhaps mixed in with works from my island as well. A
West-meets-East sort of thing. And I'd like you to help me coordinate it."
    Leilani opened her mouth but
shock took her voice. She shook her head. "This is surprising," she
finally managed to say.
    "I was quite taken with your
gallery. You've a good eye. You have an impeccable reputation in the West. I
think this show could be brilliant for both of us."
    "Yes." Her mind was
already churning with the PR potential.
    "I need you here until the
end of June. There's no negotiation on that front. I'll arrange your lodgings
and travel, of course, and make sure you have anything you need. Before you decide,
Google my gallery. I'd tell you it's the best in London, but you should discover
that for yourself," Mel said without a hint of bragging. "I'll give
you my phone number and you can call me with your answer tomorrow."
    She laughed. "You waste no
time, do you?"
    "Time is a commodity, love.
You're looking for a reason to escape Maui for a bit, isn't that right?"
    "I haven't had a vacation in
a long time," she said carefully.
    "This won't be a vacation,
per se, but I can guarantee you'll feel refreshed after your visit. Now here's
my cell." She rattled off a number. "Call anytime, love. I never
sleep."
    Somehow, that didn't surprise
her. "Thank you, Mel."
    "Thank me by coming to work
with me. I must run, love. Ciao ."
    Leilani stared at the phone,
feeling like a hit-and-run victim. Head spinning, she continued locking up the
gallery and headed to Samantha and Mark's house. They were expecting her for
dinner.
    She drove the whole way on
autopilot. She walked around the back, to the kitchen door, knowing Sam would
be there in her makeshift studio, painting. She waved to catch her friend's attention
and let herself into the kitchen.
    "Hey." Sam grinned as
she set her palette down. She rubbed her cheek, leaving a green stripe behind.
"Come in. Get comfy. Want a drink?"
    "Yes, please."
    "Mark got this awesome wine.
I think it's chilling." She cleaned her hands on a rag and