The Jewel of His Collection Read Free

reminded her.
    “Two gloves means two paintings.” Looking up, Violet dared him to argue with her. If he protested, she’d leave the other one on, and the ridiculousness of stripping off everything while still wearing a winter glove should be enough to ruin whatever effect Carlisle was going for in asking this of her.
    Giving her a sardonic look, Carlisle said, “They’re an accessory at best. I’m being generous in counting them at all.”
    Violet shrugged. “If you feel like that”—she stooped to pick up her fallen glove and slipped it back on—“there’s no need for me to take them off.”
    She held his eyes, Carlisle looking as though he’d been carved from marble himself. After an eternity, he inclined his head. “Two paintings,” he conceded.
    Letting out her breath in a rush, Violet hastily removed both of her gloves and tossed them aside, turning to examine the paintings. There were two large canvases done in shades of red that would be a perfect introduction to the exhibit if she hung them flanking the exhibition space’s door. Heels clacking on the marble floor, she claimed their tags, placing the sticky notes on the end of the bench farthest from Carlisle.
    “Interesting choices,” he murmured as she reclaimed her spot in front of him.
    With shaking fingers, Violet went to work on the buttons of her long gray coat. There was some bulk to it, hiding the worst of her figure. Once the coat was gone, Carlisle would be able to see just what a poor deal he’d made, and she kept her eyes cast down, not wanting to see the disgust on his face when she took it off.
    Even with her trembling hands, it didn’t take long to undo the buttons, and Violet took a deep breath as she slipped the coat off, immediately holding it in front of her for a bit of camouflage as she smoothed out the wrinkles and furled it into a neat ball. Once that was done, she had no more excuses, and her throat closed up as she let the coat fall to the floor.
    “Which will you choose now?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle. When Violet jerked her head up, she could detect no sign of distaste in his eyes.
    “ Mountain Sunrise ,” she said at once, going to the tiny canvas. Although Madden usually chose to work large-scale, this painting was barely bigger than her hand, making it somewhat impractical for an exhibit. However, a print of this painting had appeared in one of Violet’s textbooks, and she’d spent hours gazing at it, trying to understand how he’d layered his brushstrokes. It was one of her favorite pieces of art, and she felt that she’d earned the right to display it.
    As she retrieved the tag, she could feel Carlisle’s eyes on her. “ Very interesting.”
    Bracing herself for a protest, Violet took off her scarf, but he maintained his silence as she chose another painting. Apparently, she’d won the battle of accessories. When she slipped off her suit jacket to reveal the waistcoat underneath, his lips twitched. “You planned ahead.”
    “Proper planning prevents poor performance,” she rattled off without thinking. A cross-stitch sampler with that motto had hung in Murray’s office, and she’d kept it after he retired. Somehow she’d never pictured these circumstances when she looked at it.
    “I’ve often thought so,” he agreed, bracing his hands behind him as he leaned back to study her. His eyes were twinkling with amusement, but Violet had the feeling that he was laughing with her as opposed to at her.
    “Isn’t that the Boy Scout motto? Always be prepared?” she asked to distract herself as she unbuttoned her waistcoat and added it to the growing pile of fabric at her feet.
    “I couldn’t tell you. I’ve never been much of an outdoorsman,” he admitted. “I like my art and my comforts.”
    “But you’ve chosen to live in Maine,” Violet reminded him. “Wouldn’t New York or LA be more suitable?”
    “I also like my privacy,” he informed her, his tone inviting her to ask no