Crazy Love (Emerald Lake Billionaires 3) (25 page)

“You didn’t say anything about being an artist.”

“When it comes to painting, I don’t have a choice. It’s part of who I am.”

“You’re a special person, Holly. You make a lot of people happy, including me. Doing things that make you happy must help any relationship.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re good friends. We make each other happy.”

Daniel pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Probably.”

“I told your sister about Blake’s app. She was very impressed.”

“Did you tell her everything?”

“Just the important bits—like meeting an amazing man, learning how to cook, and recognizing what an anchovy looks like.”

“You could start a list of all of the things that make you happy. We could add different foods to the list as part of our cooking lessons.”

She took a step toward him. “Do you have any favorite foods?”

He couldn’t think of anything at the moment. Holly’s grin was doing funny things to his brain.

She was waiting for him to say something, so he focused on what was inside his refrigerator. “Cheese.”

“Okay, but I’ve already tried blue cheese. It definitely doesn’t make me happy.”

“We could try other varieties.”

“I like cheese that’s gooey in the center.”

Daniel kissed the end of her nose. “Have I told you how much I enjoy your company?”

“Once or twice. Are you saying that so you’ll go on my list?”

“No. I’m saying it because it’s true”.”

Holly smiled and lifted her hands over his shoulders. “We haven’t spent much time together over the last few days.”

“We could make up for it now.”

“That’s one of the things I like about you, Daniel. You have some great ideas.”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her mouth. “It’s something we both have in common.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Holly paced backward and forward, waiting for her dad and Daniel to arrive. She’d invited them to her apartment to look at her paintings. She didn’t know how her father would react when she told him she was H. Jones or what he’d think of her career.

Whatever he said or did, she wanted Daniel to be here.

Someone knocked on her front door. She waited for the security lights to go on and peered through the window. It was Daniel, hunched against the cold and covered from head to foot in layers of clothing.

She opened the front door and pulled him inside. “It’s freezing outside.”

He grunted and took off his coat. “I don’t know how anyone gets used to this weather.”

Holly hung up his coat. “You get used to it after a while. It’s worth putting up with the cold, especially if you like skiing.” She glanced at the expression on Daniel’s face. “You do know how to ski, don’t you?”

“I went skiing a few times with Blake. After falling over for the hundredth time I decided I’d sooner watch the snow fall from inside. Especially if there’s a roaring fire and unlimited hot chocolate nearby.”

“I could take you snowmobiling. There are some great tracks around Bozeman and it won’t leave you with bruises.” She walked to her front window. “Dad shouldn’t be too far away.”

“He might have been slowed down by the weather.”

She glanced at her watch. “He’s catching the eight o’clock flight to Seattle. If he doesn’t get here soon he won’t have much time with us.”

“He’s got plenty of time.”

“I’ll add another log to the fire.”

Daniel held onto her hand and led her to the sofa. “Sit here. I can put more wood on the fire. Have you worn a hole in your carpet, yet?”

Holly looked down at her feet before she realized what Daniel was talking about. “I’m more nervous about telling dad my artist’s name than when I met you.”

“I’m impressed that anything could beat our first date. Look at us now. We’re practically roommates with the amount of time we spend together.”

She bit her bottom lip. “If you’re trying to take my mind off dad, it’s not working.”

Daniel crossed his arms. “Let’s see. I’ve seen you most days this week. Admittedly, on two of those days you were in my loft with your art workshop. Apart from that, I met you for coffee on Monday and we had another cooking lesson on Wednesday.”

She watched the flames dance in the fireplace. This week they’d made old-fashioned hamburgers, chunky fries, and a fresh garden salad. She hadn’t looked at the cost of the fancy lettuce. Some things, she was beginning to realize, weren’t important when you were with a billionaire—especially when he was paying for their shopping.

A knock on the door brought her to her feet. “Dad’s here.”

Daniel followed her to the entranceway. “Take a deep breath and don’t worry. Your dad will love what you do. He’s probably happy to be invited here to spend time with you.”

“I hope you’re right.” She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Her dad was dressed exactly as Daniel had been. He took off his coat and hugged her.

“Is your flight still on time?” she asked.

“Still on time at this stage.” He shook Daniel’s hand. “It’s good to see you again. I’m excited about seeing Holly’s paintings. If she was going to inherit anything from me, I’m glad it was the ability to appreciate art.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” Daniel said.

Holly glanced at him before moving toward the staircase. “I might as well show you my paintings before we have coffee. The previous owners created a loft out of the ceiling space. I added another couple of skylights and a window. It’s not a big studio, but it’s a good space to work in.”

Her dad followed her up the stairs. “I thought you might have kept your mom’s house.”

She put her hand on the rail to steady herself. “I stayed there after mom’s funeral. Every time I turned around I expected to see her. I could feel her presence inside the house for a long time. When her spirit left, the house felt empty. It wasn’t my home anymore.”

Her dad’s hand touched her shoulder.

She turned and looked at him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when your mom was sick. It was a burden you shouldn’t have had to carry on your own.”

Holly sent him a wobbly smile. “It wasn’t a burden, dad. As hard as it was, it was a special time. Sharing the last few months of mom’s life with her was a privilege. The nurses made sure she didn’t suffer.” She turned and continued up the stairs.

Daniel stepped into the loft and came to stand beside her. His presence gave her courage when her nerves were at breaking point.

Her dad glanced at her before silently following the paintings around the room. The first canvas was part of the portfolio she’d submitted for her scholarship to art school. The next series of paintings took her dad through her time in Europe, then back to New York where she’d really started to make a name for herself.

He stopped in front of a portrait of a man in Central Park. He turned to her, his eyes bright with tears. “You’re H. Jones?”

Holly nodded.

Her dad wiped his eyes and stepped toward the next painting. “It’s our tree,” he said softly, “and Helena.”

Holly stood beside him, her own eyes filling with tears. She looked for Daniel, wanting to share the story behind her painting.

He walked across the room and joined them.

She wrapped her hand around his and began speaking. “Do you remember what I told you about walking in the woods with dad?”

He nodded.

“This is our tree. We carved our initials on the trunk. Each year we’d go back and make sure the tree was still there. Dad would measure how tall I was and add another notch in the wood.” She pointed at the main trunk, the faint marks she’d lovingly added to the canvas. To most people, the marks would simply be more texture, more layers to the gnarled and twisted wood. But to her, they represented a passing of time, a journey from innocence to adulthood and the life experience that shaped who she was today.

Her dad took a deep breath, “Helena was my wife and Holly’s mom.”

Holly had painted a transparent image of her mom across the height and width of the canvas. She’d found the photo of her in a box after she’d died. Her mom must have been about twenty-five years old. Her eyes were bright and her smile relaxed. She looked happy and carefree, the essence of how Holly wanted to remember her.

The tree grew around her mom, holding the memory of her life in its branches. A light wind ruffled the leaves, creating movement, adding a gentle energy to the canvas.

Her dad sighed. “It’s beautiful. They all are.” He turned to Holly and hugged her close. “I can’t believe you’re H. Jones. I went to one of your exhibitions in London. I was spellbound by your portraits.”

“You haven’t seen my landscapes,” she said as they stepped apart. She wiped her eyes and pointed to the three canvases leaning against the back wall. “Nick sold my first landscape within days of hanging it in his gallery. These are part of my new series. I’m hoping they’ll be accepted for the Gagosian exhibition.”

Her dad walked across the studio and studied the paintings of Bozeman in spring, summer, and fall.

“I’m still working on my winter landscape. It’s not going to be ready in time for the first submission date, but I’m hoping it will be accepted based on the other three in the series.”

“They’d be mad not to take it,” her dad whispered. “These are stunning, Holly. You’ve captured so much more than what you’ve seen.” He knelt on the wooden floor, getting as close to one of the paintings as he could. “The brushwork is so fine. The way you’ve transitioned from shadow to light, it’s incredible.”

He stood up and looked at the other two canvases. “Before any painting leaves your studio it needs to be fully insured. The company that transports your canvases need to know what they’re doing. There are people out there who would give their eye teeth for these paintings.”

Holly smiled at her dad. “The Gagosian have a contract with one of the best transportation companies in the States. An assessor saw me yesterday. Each painting in my studio is fully insured.”

“How long are you exhibiting at the Gagosian? I know the owners of galleries throughout Europe. We could launch your series in select locations, expose your work to a new audience.”

Holly put her hand on her dad’s arm. “I appreciate what you’re saying, dad, but I prefer to do things my way. I’m focusing my energy on creating more paintings. Next year it might be different.”

“I could help your career. You have an amazing gift, Holly. The world needs to know about you.”

Daniel sent her an amused look.

“The people who count already know about me. Let’s have a cup of coffee before you leave for the airport. We can talk about your ideas when you get back.”

Her dad stopped in the middle of the loft. “I won’t be coming back to Bozeman. I’m sorry, I thought I’d told you. I’m preparing for another exhibition after I’ve been to Seattle. I may not be back for another four or five months.”

“You’re leaving?”

“We could keep in contact by phone.”

Her dad looked as sad as she felt. It wouldn’t be the same and they both knew it.

Daniel opened the door to the loft. “Let’s get that coffee and make the most of your dad being here, Holly. There’s plenty of time to figure out how you can see each other again.”

For someone with a logical mind, Daniel wasn’t thinking straight. If she was going to have a relationship with her dad, they needed to spend time together.

Her dad stood beside her. “We’ll make it work, Holly. Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to lose you.”

As they walked downstairs, she tried to push her disappointment away. Her dad was with her now, and that was all that mattered.

***

Daniel ignored his ringing phone. Ever since news of his latest app hit the marketplace, his phone had been going non-stop. Reporters and bloggers from around the world wanted to know how his company planned on revolutionizing Third World aid. He’d tried to keep their expectations realistic, but he had a feeling they hadn’t listened.

The phone stopped ringing and he went back to the spreadsheet in front of him. One of his staff had developed an app to help people with diabetes. Although the science behind the app was beyond his level of expertise, he’d been part of the project from day one.

One of the leading experts in diabetes management was part of their team. Their first objective had been to identify whether the app had a wide commercial application. If the app lived up to their expectations, it could help a lot of people.

The phone rang again and Daniel dropped his head into his hands. At the rate he was going, he’d still be here at nine o’clock tonight, plowing his way through a mountain of paperwork. Frustrated, he grabbed the phone. At least if he was talking to this person, he wouldn’t have to answer another call.

“Daniel Sullivan speaking. How can I help you?”

“What are you doing in Montana? You should be in New York wining and dining all of the high-roller investors. Someone’s always looking for the next IT project that’s going to change the world.”