His Ransom 5(6)

As he spoke, he gestured with a long arm. I found myself mesmerized even before we stepped into the lower room.

Then there we were. On either side of the wall, paintings hung in profusion. There were canvases stacked sideways against the walls, with only brown paper wrapping between them. So many paintings.

“This is all the same artist?” I asked, stepping forward. The largest painting near me was an abstract work, all blues and greens blossoming from the dark background.

“He is a contemporary master,” Jean-Luc said. “Or so they tell me. I was hoping for your opinion.”

“My opinion?” I stared up at another canvas that was larger than me. A checkerboard of black and white squares had been distorted, as though a gravity field in the center was sucking up the lines. Or maybe it was supposed to be a fisheye lens. “I don’t know much about this kind of art.”

“But I find that your works are very similar,” Jean-Luc said. He followed close behind me as I walked. I could feel the heat from his body as he stood behind me. It gave me a thrill to have such a handsome French man guiding me around a private gallery, even more so than the art thrilled me. A pang of guilt went through me as he touched the small of my back, leading me farther into the room.

“You have the same tonal values. The same depth in your line work.”

“I suppose so,” I said, looking up at another huge checkerboard canvas. “These are very impressive.”

A strange feeling tickled the back of my mind. I glanced back at Jean-Luc. It was as though I’d seen this man before. I had no idea where I would have seen him, but that was the impression he gave me.

“You have a question about this piece?” Jean-Luc asked, waiting patiently behind me.

“No,” I said. “I was just curious… you’ve never been to New York, have you?”

“Mais oui. Of course I’ve been to your greatest city. I make it a point to visit every year for the art auctions.”

“I mean, I feel like I’ve met you before.” I frowned, looking deeper into Jean-Luc’s eyes. “Were you at Jake’s birthday party?”

He shook his head and held his hands out helplessly.

“I apologize,” he said. “But I have never been to one of Mr. Carville’s soirees. I wish I could say that I have met you before. A beautiful lady such as yourself…”

I flushed hard, my skin turning hot on my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that you looked familiar.”

“I’m sure you have met many men like me,” he said, smoothing over my faux pas and making me blush even more furiously.

“No,” I said. “Nobody like you.”

“No?”

“No,” I said, trying to get my emotions under control. For a moment there, he’d reminded me of Jake. It had flustered me. That was all.

“Then let me show you another collection…” Jean-Luc said. He waved me ahead, and I tried not to imagine his eyes burning down my back as we walked together through the rooms full of art.





Chapter Four

I was exhausted after looking through three private collections with Jean-Luc. I managed to blurt out something about my own paintings at the end, but Jean-Luc didn’t seem interested in talking business. Instead, he said that he had a dinner to attend to, and that he would be calling me sometime soon.

“If you’re still in Paris, that is,” he said. His dark eyes twinkled.

“I’ll be here all week,” I said.

“Excellent.”

Jean-Luc leaned forward and kissed me again on the cheeks. I still wasn’t used to the traditional French greeting, but I did the best I could to ignore the strange twist of desire that came through my body at the touch of his lips. He was handsome, sure, but this was just business.

Just business.

“I hope we meet again soon, my dear,” Jean-Luc said. He pushed the door open, and I blinked hard in the bright Paris sunshine.

“Yes,” I said, looking around the courtyard of the Louvre. There seemed to be even more people in line now than there had been before I went down into the private collections. I was completely turned around. This city was confusing. “Do you… do you happen to know where the nearest subway is?”

He raised his dark eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t Mr. Carville send you a car?”

I flushed.

“I—maybe. Probably. I try not to ask him for those kinds of things.”

“He is not your boyfriend?”

“Uh, I mean…” I trailed off, uncertain of how to answer. “We’re dating, ah… casually right now.”

There was a strange look in his eyes, a slight frown. Then it was gone.