They went up to bed not long after that and made slow, delicious love. Lacey thought, as she dropped

off to sleep a little later, that she'd never been happier. She had her love and her baby and little by little, she was getting back to work.

XavierHockland called the next day.

Chapter 13.

"Igot your number from Barnaby," Xavier said in that slightly bored, thoroughly arrogant tone Lacey remembered so well. "I asked him if I could just drop by his loft and show Belinda Goldstone the work you did last winter. He said I had to check with you first." Belinda Goldstone. Lacey's pulse accelerated. Belinda Goldstone was one ofL.A.'s premiere art dealers.

She owned a gallery where she hung only the works of top contemporary artists.

"Lace. Are you there?"

Lacey swallowed. "I'm here."

"I heard you had that baby."

Thatbaby. What was the matter with him? "Her name is Rosie."

"And you adore her." Xavier sighed.

"Yes, I do. She's one of the two best things that ever happened to me."

"The other being?"

"My husband, Logan."

Xavier said nothing. Lacey waited him out. Finally, he asked, "Have you done any work at all in the past few months?"

"Xavier. Let's not get started on that. What I'm working on, or when, or how much time I'm giving to it is no longer your concern. What's this about Belinda Goldstone?"

He let a few seconds elapse, just to show her he was controlling the conversation, before he said, "I had lunch with her yesterday. She asked about you."

Lacey was frowning. "I hardly know her. I've met her at two or three openings,that's all-just to shake her hand and say, 'How are you?' Why would she ask about me?"

Xavier sighed again. "Until you decided to throw it all away, youwere my protegee."

Lacey knew that wasn't all of it. "Okay. So she asked about me. And you told her I'd thrown it all away.

End of conversation."

Xavier made an impatient sound. "All right, all right. Word gets around. There has been some buzz about that series of figure studies you were working on before you took off to ... complete your gestation period in the wilds ofWyoming."

"So she asked about the series I was working on last winter, is that it?"

"Yes."

"And you told her...?"

Another pause, then he gave out grudgingly, "That they were fabulous. Sensual. Arresting. Powerful. I laid on the adjectives. They were only the truth."

Lacey's heart had started pounding hard again. "And she asked if she could see them?"

"Yes. I told her I'd check into it. Will you call that d.a.m.n Barnaby and tell him it's all right if I show them to her?"

Lacey resisted the urge to throw back her head and let out a long, loud yelp of glee. "Lace? Will you call Barnaby?" "Yes, Xavier, I will." "Thank you." "Thankyou ." "You're welcome," Xavier said. "And there's one other thing..." "Yes?" "Perhaps I was a little out of line, about that baby." "Her name is Rosie. And yes, you were out of line." "You're happy." "I am." "And Barnaby said the man's a doctor. That he has money." "What are you getting at, Xavier?" "Happiness and money. These are good things for an artist. Some opt for struggle-they buy into the myth that suffering will somehow improve the work. This is delusional. Struggle only wears one down. The work gets done in spite of suffering, not because of it. A place to work, and few outside worries. That's what an artist needs. Happiness and money can help a lot in that regard. When you told me about the baby, I understood you were going to be dealing with it on your own. Now I can see that isn't the case, so perhaps I was too quick to offer my advice on the subject."

"Xavier, is this an apology?"

"I never apologize. I'm just pleased to hear you're doing well. Have Barnaby call me."

"Yes. Yes. I will."

At first, Lacey told no one about Xavier's call-except Barnaby inL.A.It was her little secret she kept just to herself.

Belinda Goldstone had asked to see her work.

It might mean nothing.

Or it might mean a great deal.

She wouldn't know until Xavier-or Belinda Goldstone herself-called back.If one of them called back.

Until then, well, she certainly did feel terrific about herself. She found it easier to concentrate when she went into her studio. Her confidence had just gotten a big boost, and that did wonders for her ability to focus when she worked.

And beyond progress in her work, it was pure self-indulgent delight just to fantasize a little about what this might mean. To imagine her paintings hanging in Belinda Goldstone's gallery.

In her fantasy, of course; the show would sell out before the opening. And her beautiful paintings of Loganwould...

Logan.

That did give her pause. She had yet to tell him that there were nine nudes of him-his face carefully disguised, of course-stored in Barnaby Cole'sL.A.loft.

She probablyshould have told him before now.

In fact, she realized, she couldn't afford to put off telling him any longer. If anything did come of Belinda Goldstone's visit to Barnaby's loft, she wanted her husband to be reasonably prepared. It only seemed fair that he should know about the existence of the paintings before she sprung the news that Belinda Goldstone wanted to hang them in her gallery.

She told him two nights after Xavier called, over a dinner of roast beef, baby carrots and new potatoes-a meal that was one of his favorites. She'd decided it wouldn't hurt to coddle him a little before she hit him with the information she probably shouldn't have kept from him in the first place.

He took the news amazingly well. He seemed surprised, but not offended. And he had a number of questions.

"You say it's impossible to tell that I wasyour ..." He frowned, seeking the right word.

She provided one. "Inspiration?"

"Okay. I'll go with that. Will anyone be able to tell that Iinspired you?"

"Well," she hedged. "People who know you might guess. But I promise, they won't know for certain.

The face in each painting is hidden-with a mask, or by shadows, or because the figure is turned away from the viewer."

He was still frowning. "Exactly how nude is nude?"

"Logan. What is that supposed to mean?" He tried again. "I guess I'm asking, are they ... tasteful?" She had to laugh. "Tastefulwasn't exactly what I was shooting for." He set down his fork. "Let me put it this way. What shows?" She understood. And laughed again. "How can such a s.e.xy man be such a prude?" "Just answer me. What shows?" "No genitals. How's that?" He picked up his fork again. "A relief." They ate in silence for a minute or two. Then he said, "There are nine of them?"

"Uh-huh."

"How long did it take you to paint them?"

"I painted the first one here inMeadowValley, when I was staying with Jenna, at the beginning of

October."

He glowered at her. "Right after you sent me away."

She let the implied accusation pa.s.s and stuck to the issue. "Yes. And I finished the ninth one inL.A., in

early April, about a month before I left forWyoming." He drank from his winegla.s.s and set it down. His expression had softened. "I guess that means I was onyour mind a lot, all those months." "Yes,Logan, you were." She cut a bite of meat, concentrating on the small task, then glanced up through her lashes at him. "You know that you were."

His eyes were very dark. "You were on my mind, too."

"I'm glad." She waited, thinking,It's going to happen now. He's going to actually get the words out. He's

going to say that he loves me.

But the moment pa.s.sed. He watched her with desire, with tenderness, with a hint of exasperation-and

with what she knew to be love.

He just didn't say it.

"Why are you telling me now?" he asked quietly. She poked the bite of meat into her mouth and

chewed, thinking,Well , what did I expect? The man is hardheaded, but he's certainly no fool. So what now? She could lie and keep her little secret to herself. He might never have to know. But if Xavier or Belinda Goldstonedid call...

So much for her secret.

She finished chewing. He waited, his eyes never leaving her face.

She swallowed. "You remember the artist I went toL.A.to study under? I think I talked about him a little,

last September." Loganthought for a minute. "Hockland, right? XavierHockland ." "Yes, XavierHockland . He called, the day before yesterday with some good news ... or itcould be good news."

Loganhad set his fork down again, but he didn't speak. He was waiting for her to tell him whatever it was she had to say.

She sucked in a breath. "Xavier had lunch with a certain very well-known art dealer, Belinda Goldstone,

a few days ago. She'd heard about the paintings-through the grapevine, you could say. She asked to see them. He wanted my permission to show them to her."

"XavierHockland has the paintings?"

"No, they're at Barnaby Cole's. I've told you about Barnaby, haven't I? He's a friend. He has a big loft.

Downtown. And Xavier wanted to take Belinda Goldstone there, to see them."

"And?"

"And I said yes, that it was fine with me if Xavier showed her my paintings."

"What else?"

"Nothing else. Yet."

"A reputable art dealer wants to see some of your paintings. You gave XavierHockland permission to

show them to her. And that's all."