MisMatch (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (13 page)

“So, Samson, your work is awe inspiring. The
entire town is abuzz with your name,” Mia said.

“It is? That’s news to me.”

Jessica at least jumped in with a rescue
attempt. “Mom, I’ve told you, Samson prefers to be called Eli.
Samson is the public persona.”

God, had she actually bought that lame
excuse? He didn’t particularly care as long as it kept her from
calling out his brother’s name when they were together.

Mia’s gaze flitted between him and her
daughter, with her eyes narrowing a millimeter. “I’m so glad that
you and Jessica could work together and find the arrangement
mutually beneficial.”

Eli cleared his throat as the image of him
and Jessica screwing on her front porch flashed in his memory. He
quickly locked the memory away in a containment carrier in the back
of his brain. He’d let it out later, when he had time to savor the
dream. “Yes. She’s an extremely talented manager. She’s already
taken the Samson brand and amplified it. I never would have been
able to do that on my own.” That was the truth, at least.

“That’s my daughter for you. She’s full of
hidden talents. I’m just so relieved she found something that
worked for her. I was getting very worried that she wouldn’t settle
on a career at all and insist on being a perpetual student. “

“Mom!” Jessica frowned as she gave a shake
of her head.

Mia’s eyes went wide. “Well, it’s true,
darling. I mean, how many post graduate degrees do you need? At
least now that she has a career, we can focus on her finding
someone and not dying alone.”

Eli frowned. Degrees, as in plural? Jessica
was full of surprises. He’d have to do some more digging on her.
No you won’t, you idiot
.
Women hate that controlling shit.
He ground his teeth
and tried to focus on the excellent steak one of the maids had
placed in front of him.

***

Things finally calmed down for the next
thirty minutes as Jessica played interference and volleyed probing
questions about their relationship.

Occasionally, Eli would chat with one of the
other artists at the table. There was a sculptor there as well as
another painter. The final was a performance artist. There was also
a gallery owner and another manager present, but Mia kept him in
the hot seat with Jessica trying to distract her.

“Jessica mentions that you’re engaged.
Where’s your fiancé tonight?”

Beside him, Jess went stiff. He plastered
his hand on her knee and squeezed to keep her quiet. If her mother
was busy talking about her fiancé, she couldn’t be probing the two
of them about their relationship, and she couldn’t probe him about
his career as an artist. Funny thing—this was exactly the kind of
interaction Samson would have loved. He’d have charmed Mia and
steered her the direction he wanted, which was usually himself. Eli
usually didn’t give a shit enough to bother.

“Oh, my fiancé couldn’t be—”

“Mia, love where are you?”

Jessica groaned as Mia’s face lit up like
the star on top of a Christmas tree.

“Looks like he made it after all,” Mia said.
“Darling, we’re in here. You’re just in time for dessert.”

Michael Fenton strode in confidently. He
halted in the doorway, his eyes surveying the scene. When his gaze
landed on Eli, he froze.

Eli studied him, frowning. The man looked
familiar. His brain whirred as it tried to determine where he knew
him from.

It took four long seconds, but Michael
finally gained his composure and entered the room. “My God. Samson
Marks. You’re a bit of a legend in this house.” Stepping right up
to Eli, he pumped his hand vigorously. His stance was open, both
hands clasped around Eli’s, big smile, even his eyes crinkled. But
the gesture felt
insincere
. The big smile
was in place, but the creasing around his mouth was a little
unnatural, and the creasing around his eyes also looked forced,
like the smiles little children gave camera-toting relatives when
they knew they were supposed to smile pretty for the camera.

Eli returned the handshake. “It’s nice to
meet you. Jessica mentioned that you and Mia are headed to the
altar.”

Michael Fenton stood behind his fiancée and
immediately intertwined their hands. Was that for his benefit or
Jessica’s?

Eli’s brain finally finished processing. He
knew where he’d seen Michael Fenton before. He studied the older
man. His hair was darker now, salt and pepper, and he had also
grown a beard, but there was no denying it. Michael Fenton was the
same man from the photographs Vince had shown him. Adrenaline
coursed through Eli like it did when he discovered a forgery or was
on retrieval duty. As soon as he could, he had to put in a call to
the office.

“Michael, Mom said you first introduced her
to Eli’s work. I can’t thank you enough. He’s a terrific artist,”
Jessica said through gritted teeth.

Michael’s eyes went wide. “Eli?”

Shit, was that suspicion on his face? Who
was this guy? Eli leaned forward. “It’s my middle name. I prefer to
separate my real life and the persona.”

Fenton visibly relaxed. “I’ve seen you paint
before, you know?”

“Is that right? Where?”

“Just this grotty show you did in San
Francisco.”

Eli knew every exhibition his brother had
ever done. He’d been his brother’s keeper for longer than he cared
to remember. Sam had never done a show in San Francisco. But he had
gone to a rehab facility there. “You mean the one in Sacramento?
I’ve never done an exhibition in the city.” Who was this douche
bag, and why was he testing him? Did he know? He tried for a
modulated tone when he said, “I have to thank you, too.” He said
smoothly. “Without Jessica, I’d still be trying to break into this
market. You single handedly have helped catapult my career, and I
can’t thank you enough.”

Michael nodded absently. “Mia said Jessica
needed some clients, and I love your work. “

“Oh really, which piece is your
favorite?”

“Well, I have to say I’ve been a fan of your
work for years. Even before you took a break from painting. I’ve
tried to dig up any scrap of work you’ve done. There was one called
‘Equilibrium,’ about two brothers—the style was so memorable of
Jackson Pollock. God, it could have been Pollock. I love that
one.”

Eli froze. Was that supposed to be some kind
of hint? Through a tight jaw he said, “It’s been a long time since
I painted that.”

Fenton smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Come on, son. Don’t be modest. You had a certain knack for
mimicking the greats. I would swear I’ve even seen a Picasso you
painted before. For exhibition purposes, of course.” Fenton’s
apparent good humor held the trace of malice.

Jessica placed a hand on his thigh. “I had
no idea, Eli. Can I see that earlier work? I might be able to use
it for promotion.”

Panic seized him. Just want he needed:
Jessica advertising that Samson had been a forger once. Sam’s
career would be over before it even began.

Eli cleared his throat. “They were all
destroyed in a fire.” Everything that hadn’t been taken into
evidence had.

Fenton shook his head, then leveled a direct
gaze at Eli. “That’s a real shame. You had some kind of raw talent.
Given your years of experience, I’d love to see what you could do
with a Picasso now. I mean do you ever get tempted to copy one?
Just to see if you can do it again?”

Eli narrowed his eyes at the asshole.
Shit
. Sam’s cover was blown. Eli didn’t
know how, but Michael Fenton knew about Sam’s past. Worse, he
seemed to be goading him, probing to see if he was still forging.
Was Samson tied up with Fenton somehow? Could Sam be involved in
his current con schemes? Eli wracked his brain trying to think of
the cities Vince had rattled off and the years. There had been some
overlap as Samson had tried to get his career started again. Was it
possible?

Eli steered the conversation in another
direction and had Jessica pick up the slack for him as the group
started discussing the upcoming shows.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket under
the table and sent Vince a quick text:
Looks like
I found your con man. I’ll call you as soon as I leave the
dinner.

As he slid his phone back into his pocket,
Destiny Shane, another artist manager sidled up to him.
Immediately, Eli’s gaze found Jessica. She was across the room
engaged in a conversation about her gallery with one of the other
artists.

“You know, you’re a very difficult man to
get ahold of,” Destiny said.

“Well, I have a show to prep for, so I spend
most of my time painting.” Sam had mentioned she’d called the
studio several times, wanting an appointment. “I take it there’s
something you want to discuss with me?”

“Of course, silly.” She placed a hand on his
arm, and he glanced at it as she massaged his forearm. He wasn’t a
fan of random strangers touching him. “I was just saying to Michael
that I would love to do some work with you. Something, anything.
Introduce you around definitely. He suggested just today that we
could perhaps work together on a small project or something.”

Eli frowned. Michael’s suggestion, was it?
“You know I’m represented by Jessica, right?” He stared down at her
hand pointedly.

She immediately removed it. “Of course, and
I wasn’t trying to tread on your business relationship. I just
think, in the world today, you can’t have too many people working
in your corner.”

“Right. I’m just one of those kinds of
people who likes things a little clear cut, so tell you what? Why
don’t you call Jessica, and you guys can brainstorm some ideas, and
she’ll discuss with me. If I’m interested, the two of you can work
it out,” he said with a smile meant to convey that he would only
work with Jessica directly. Poaching of clients happened all the
time in the art world, and he didn’t plan on doing that to
Jess.

“Yeah, uh, that sounds like a plan,” Destiny
stumbled. “I uh, actually have a benefit I’m doing at the end of
next week. Maybe you both will be in attendance?”

“Sounds like something fun. Just give
Jessica a call.”

Destiny didn’t look particularly thrilled
that he’d given her the brush off, but she would have to get over
it. She was clearly trying to steal him, and he wasn’t a fan of her
tactics.

His train of thought stumbled as the light
in the living room caught on Mia’s gold bracelet. Michael absently
fingered the delicate piece of jewelry.

Staring at the jewel, Eli murmured, “Mia,
what a beautiful bracelet. Where did you get it?”

She beamed. “Michael gave it to me as a
present.”

“It’s been in my family for years and
years.” Michael draped an arm around his fiancée’s bare
shoulders.

Bullshit
. Eli had
seen that bracelet before. It was a near perfect match for the one
he’d seen in Vince’s file. It was possible he was wrong. Jessica’s
mother wasn’t exactly the kind to pull off a jewelry heist. But her
slick fiancé—he was trouble. Eli just had to find a way to tag
him.

Jessica leaned in. “I’ve had enough for one
night, if you’re ready to go.”

Eli’s body tensed in anticipation. It didn’t
matter that he knew it was a bad idea, he wanted her. “Yeah, I’m
done, too. I’ll be right here.”

As she went to get her purse, he stepped
away from the crowd to answer his buzzing phone. “Vince, I can’t
talk right now.”

“Dude, just tell me what the fuck is going
on.”

Eli lowered his voice. “Look. I’ve got eyes
on your con man. I still need his real alias.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“Affirmative.”

“Hot shit. Can you get a photo?”

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

“This could finally be the break we’ve been
waiting for. E, you are something else. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything yet. Let’s just
get something airtight on him.”

***

Nothing says disaster better than a failed
dinner party. Jess knew what her mother was like, but she’d opted
to try this anyway. Of course, Mia hadn’t been able to see Eli as
just another artist; she’d seen him as prey for her daughter. Oh,
not in a malicious sense, but in a sense that she knew what men
wanted, and he was prime pickings for her unmarried daughter.

Eli, for his part, had been every bit the
well behaved escort, looking more businessman than artist. He was
impeccably groomed in his Armani slacks and vest. He didn’t even
have a hair out of place. It had irritated her when she’d seen him
all buttoned up. It reminded her of the night they’d spent
together. Immediately her skin grew hot and prickled at the
memories of him reaching up under her dress and stroking her flesh,
all the while remaining seemingly unaffected. Or so she’d thought.
He might have looked in control, but she’d learned quickly enough
that beneath the polished exterior was a sexual wild man waiting to
get out. Underneath the pinstripes lay the wild and earthy artist.
Both men were a deadly combination for her. But it was not like she
could very well walk away from him.

“Sassy, are you all right? You’re looking
flushed,” he asked. His voice was warm, melted chocolate to her
senses and made her want to lick him all over. Dinner had been an
exercise in self-control.

Quickly, she went back to the dining room
and scooped up her phone from the table. She checked the messages,
frowning. Nothing. Damn, she’d thought the special, up-and-coming
artist pitch she’d sent to the Tenman Museum would have garnered a
bite for Eli’s work.

Cursing her stilettos, she grabbed her purse
in the study. Through the slightly ajar door, she heard Michael
speaking to someone on the phone.

“You can imagine my surprise when I walked
in to find him sitting at the dinner table. It was your job to keep
an eye out for him. I don’t want to be surprised by shit like that
again.”