Page 4 of Unlikely Match

As we walk into the gallery, Jewel seems slightly cautious. Perhaps… nervous? I wonder if she's self-conscious because we don't really look like a couple out on a date. I'm over ten years older than her, in one of my custom-tailored suits that I always wear for important meetings.

Jewel, meanwhile, is wearing a lovely blue dress that falls to her knees, with black and gray textured tights underneath against the slight winter chill. Her long, black coat has a hugepanel of band pins across the right shoulder. I haven't heard of most of them.

Dammit. I probably look more like her father than her date. Or older brother, maybe, or young uncle. Someone who is definitely not cool enough to be with such a fun, gorgeous young woman, anyway. Did I say dammit?

We walk slowly around the gallery, and I discreetly slip off my tie, rolling it up and stashing it in my pocket. Unfastening two shirt buttons doesn't exactly turn me into Mr. Casual, but it's a start. I hope.

The front room is filled with huge, splashy, bright canvases. The second room contains smaller, more understated pieces, mostly in ink.

I'm instantly drawn to three drawings in square frames, around two feet by two feet each. The jet black ink, almost invisible black frame, and bright white paper could make the simple drawings austere. Yet there is so much life in the linework. Looping and dancing, doubling back on itself, then darting out in an unexpected swirl. Some of the round shapes have light strings of dots chasing after them, or mirroring them.

"These." I stop in front of them, hypnotized. "How do I buy these?"

Glancing at Jewel, her eyes are huge. "Why these ones in particular?"

"They're…" I chuckle and shake my head. "I don't know art terms. They…call to me, I guess? They're completely engaging. I one hundred percent need them in my home."

Her lovely blue eyes are frozen, as if she's about to tear up. "I'm sorry, Jewel. Did I say something wrong? Am I not supposed to want to buy the artwork?"

She shakes her head. "I just don't know whether or not you noticed the artist's name."

I hadn't.

But leaning in, I see it there in the corner, in tiny printing.

Jewel Parker.

3

JEWEL

Alex bursts into a roar of laughter. "I swear I didn't see that." His delighted grin makes my stomach tighten as I stare into his gorgeous brown eyes. "That's amazing, that I would be drawn to your work. There's gotta be a photo post in there somewhere."

I swallow hard, then nod, aiming my phone to where his hand is pointing at my name, managing to include part of the drawing and frame. He grins as I dictate the caption. "Great sign for a blind date! At Gilmour Gallery, and A wants to buy three drawings – not realizing they were done by me!" Then I copy and paste the hashtag from a note that I created earlier, so I wouldn't have to type it each time.

I love how easily he laughs with me, how he's becoming more comfortable touching my elbow to guide me out of the way of people passing and leaning in a little so that we can hear each other more clearly. This feeling of genuinely bonding is not what I expected for this evening at all.

A gallery employee stops to ask if we're enjoying the evening, and Alex gives her his card, purchasing my pieces on the spot. My head spins as they arrange to have them delivered when theshow is over. I'm pleasantly surprised that a guy who on the surface seems like such a typical uptight businessman would be attracted to drawings that were so fanciful.

Shame on me.I've always said that people should never judge a book entirely by its cover. And yet, the cover is what intrigues you enough to read the blurb on the back. With a man this handsome, confident, and sexy… Yeah. Even if we seem like a mismatch on the surface, I want to read his blurb, if you know what I'm saying.

Who knows? There's always a chance, even if it's a microscopic one, that we might win the contest. And then we'd be expected to take that trip together. A shiver runs through me at the thought of spending a full week traveling with Alex.

Shaking my head, I take a deep breath to ground myself. First we have to get through the night, and figure out what our angle for this contest is going to be.

By the time we reach the third gallery, I've learned that Alex prefers cool colors, non-seafood hors d'oeuvres, and black-and-white over color for extremely large format photography. He seems intrigued that I prefer stark line work to painting. "You're wearing so much color," he says. "Even your fingernails are that pretty leafy green. Why the black and white in your work?"

We pause at the exit, and his massive body shadows mine. "I think it's the simplicity," I explain. "It helps emphasize the movement of the ink."

"Kind of like Japanese calligraphy? Or those huge brush paintings, where it's almost an extension of the artist's entire body?"

"I guess."

Looking up at him through my lashes, the urge to confess my dream is too strong. "I'd really like to find a way to get my art in front of more people. Changing someone's day for even a few seconds, pulling them out of their regular life for just a momentof wonder, it's sort of…" I trail off, unsure of how to put it, and Alex nods.

"I can't think of the right word either, but I think I understand. Kind of… Sacred? Spiritual? You're forming a bond with a total stranger. Sharing a moment without even knowing them."

He gets it. I'm shocked that he truly understands the vibe of an artist. But Alex has surprised me several times already. I really shouldn't have any assumptions at this point.

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