Page 13 of Deliverance

“We’ve already had this conversation.” I shift my body to face her.

“Yes, we did, but you can’t hide forever.Scarswill make you a star, Drew. Do you even understand what that means?”

There’s a rock in my chest, cold and heavy, and although my mind recognizes what acting on the words Tina has just thrown at me may entail, my heart refuses to let go of the worry and fear.

The timing just isn’t right. I can feel the wrongness of it all deep in my bones.

“Do you remember what I told you during our first meeting?” Tina’s perfect brow lifts as she continues to look at me. “I asked you to trust me to get some eyeballs on your work, and I delivered. It’s time we let the world see the face behind the art.”

“People don’t need to see my face to appreciate my creations.” I try to reason, but my argument is met with a pinning stare.

I know what Tina is thinking. Money. I’m thinking it too, because the mortgage payments on the house I bought for my mother last year aren’t cheap. Putting me on display next to my work will double the price of each piece, but I’m not ready for that kind of exposure. It’s easy to get lost in a city with ten million people when you change your hair and name, but shamelessly flaunting my accomplishments in front of the entire planet defeats the purpose of my move across the country.

I’m perfectly fine being faceless Drew Kadence until my divorce is finalized.Until I’m free.

“You should at least consider filing a restraining order.” Tina heaves out a sigh and her posture slackens. “I hate what this secret is doing to you.”

Secret? She doesn’t even know half of it.

“I just need more time, Tina,” I tell her honestly.

A loud knock saves me from the subtle sales pitch that usually follows our disagreements on how to handle my publicity. The door swings open and Lucia’s ginger head pops in. She’s the newest addition to our pool of gallery assistants and I like her a lot. The girl’s sharp and will make a great art dealer one day.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but there’s a man out on the main floor. He said he’s supposed to meet you both.”

Tina straightens up, confusion crossing her features. “Does he have an appointment?”

“No, there’s nothing on the calendar, but he mentioned that he spoke to Drew last night. Tall, blond hair, blue eyes. Tats.” Lucia waggles her thin brows suggestively. “Hot.”

“Zander Shaw,” I explain. “He saw one of the pieces yesterday and wanted to look at the rest of the collection.”

“I thought we put everything away for the event?” Tina mutters, fixing her blouse.

“We movedRhythmto the back.”

“I see.” She launches herself toward the door, all business. “Well, let’s not make the man wait.”

The main room is still a mess, but at least the walls aren’t bare. Most spots have been filled with new pieces and it feels like home again. Almost whole. Almost ready to accept those seeking refuge in art.

We find Zander in front of the large painting in the eastern wing, where the light is best in the afternoon when the sun beams through the front glass walls and creates a wonderful golden glow. He’s standing with his back to us, hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans, head tilted slightly, chin up. Although I can’t see his expression, his posture tells plenty. The man’s attention is concentrated solely on the work in front of him and…heisfinely built.

I swallow past the sudden rock in my throat. Something long forgotten lingers inside my chest and pushes against my breastbone as if wanting to get out. It’s been a very long time since I let myself notice the things about the male body that used to stir me. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. Long legs. All that wrapped in a powerful ripple of hard muscle.

I shove that feeling back down to where it came from because there’s no room for it in my current life.

“Zander!” Tina weaves her way through the cluster of toolboxes. “What a nice surprise to see you here.”

He spins to face us and in the bright sun streaming into the gallery through the large skylight, he’s even more intense than I remember him being last night. Even the dark circles beneath his eyes and subtle hollowness of his cheeks don’t make his presence any less arresting.Celebrities aren’t like the rest of us,I remind myself. His faded jeans and white T-shirt are a little too tight and leave nothing to the imagination and his dirty-blond hair falls over his broad shoulders in subtle tangles. Every detail seems so effortless yet so deliberate.

“Ladies.” His lips curl slowly into a warm smile.

Tina shakes his hand. “How did you get in? We’re not open for another couple of hours.”

“Through the back. The security guard is a fan.”

“Ah, the perks of being a world-famous drummer,” I joke.

“I wouldn’t say world-famous, but it certainly has its benefits.” He laughs softly. His sky blue gaze locks on mine and I’m instantly intimidated and lost in the depth of the color and the mystery of unsaid words. A bubble of that forgotten sensation resurfaces for a mere second before I will it back into its cage and shut the door.

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