If I Were You (Inside Out #1)(23)

I’m thrilled to discover he lives here, and intrigued by his creative process. I yearn to ask questions about his work but I hesitate, after Ava’s reference to him being a private person. Besides, the table is small and I can smell the same spicy male scent he wore last night, and the effect is drugging. I’m not sure I can ask intelligent questions so I settle on easy, small talk. “I had no idea you were local but then, I’ve been pretty removed from the art scene for the past few years.”

“But you’re back now.”

“For the summer,” I agree, watching him closely as I add, “or until Rebecca returns.”

His brow furrows. “She’s coming back?”

“You don’t think so?”

He shrugs. “Not a clue. I barely know her, but she’s been gone so long that I assumed she’d found a new job.”

“Mark says she’s on a leave of absence. From my understanding, some rich guy whisked her away to travel the world.”

“And you have no idea how long until she returns?”

“You summed up the general gist of the situation. I’m here until she’s here.” Or until I prove I’m worthy of staying around when she returns, I remind myself.

“Hmmm,” he murmurs. “That open-ended vacation is rather...odd.”

“She must be an exceptional employee.”

“Right. Must be.”

I don’t miss the hint of sardonicism tingeing his tone, and I am quite certain he doesn’t like Mark any more than Mark seems to like him.

“Wine?” he asks, indicating the book on the table with a lift of his chin.

“Apparently, it’s not enough to know art to sell art. I must acquire a knack for talking about fine wine, opera, and classical music, about all of which I am clueless. I’m being tested and since I do like a glass of wine, here or there, it seems the least intimidating.”

His lips thin with disapproval. “You don’t need to know anything but art to sell art.”

“As much as I agree, I’m a slave to Mark’s demands.” Rebecca’s writing plays in my head, catching me off guard. You know I have to punish you. I am immediately uncomfortable, and my nervous rambling tendency proves it is alive and well. “My knowledge of opera, or classical music, amounts to absolutely nothing, and frankly I don’t enjoy either.” My misspeak washes over me immediately, and I can feel blood drain from my cheeks. His father had been a famous classical pianist. “Oh God. I’m sorry. Your father- ”

“Was brilliant,” he says and his expression is unreadable, his tone even, “but as with all things, music can be an acquired taste. How ‘clueless’ are you about wines?”

I blink at the abrupt change of subject, and I’m so off kilter, I don’t seem to possess the ability to filter my comments. “I know how to point to the name on the menu and the waiter brings it.”

Amusement dances in Chris’s pale green eyes and his mood is instantly transformed from intense to relaxed. “And you pick the wine you point to how?”

“It’s a highly complex method,” I explain. “First, there is my mood. Do I want red or white? Once that choice is made, I move to the choice of chilled or not chilled. Finally, step three, comes down to--what is the cheapest glass of wine that meets my decided upon criteria.” He is smiling, but not laughing at me, and I am both charmed and pleased.

“You do know you live in wine country, right?” he teases. There is a sultry flirtation to his voice that I hope I am not imagining.

“Neither my apartment, nor the school where I teach sport vineyards in the backyards. I suppose I’m highly uncultured.”

His mood turns somber. “You’re not uncultured, far from it, but I assume you feeling that way is the whole idea in all of this. Mark looks for a weakness and uses it to disarm people. Not that a lack of knowledge in those areas is a weakness. Not unless you allow it to be.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “You don’t like Mark, do you?”

“Liking him is irrelevant. He gets the job done.”

In other words, he doesn’t like Mark. “Has he tried to find your weakness?”

“He tries to find everyone’s weakness.”

He’s avoiding a direct answer and I can’t think of a way to ask again. “I fear he’s found my weakness, or rather weaknesses, rather easily.”

“You’re better off to let your customers be experts in everything else, while you ask questions, and feed their egos. You stick with art and you’ll be golden.”

“A brilliant plan if I ever heard one.”

His lips quirk. “Brilliant? I like your choice of words.”

I purse my lips. “Like you don’t hear brilliant about your art all the time.”

“I don’t listen to my own hype. Besides, for every ‘brilliant’ there’s a critic.”

I study him a moment, his strong jaw, his intelligent green eyes and I realize I’ve stopped being all nerves and fear. I’m remarkably at ease right now considering Chris has managed to wake every hormone I own and some I didn’t know I had. “I sold two more of your paintings today.”

His eyes soften and warm at the same time. “And you did it without any knowledge of wine and opera. How is that possible?”