“Have dinner with me tonight.”
“I . . .what?”
“Dinner, Audra. You have to eat, right? Let me buy you dinner and we can catch up a little. You can tell me about your business and what you’ve done with it so I have all the information I might need when I speak with Luella. And in turn, I can tell you about the plans for the industrial park that I’m sure will bring positive growth to your business.”
Dinner? With Dane? No, I didn’t want to go to dinner with Dane. That sounded dangerous in ways I didn’t even want to contemplate. And yet, he was making a special trip to Colorado to confront Luella on my behalf. He was being kind, and seemed honestly perplexed at his grandmother’s actions. What big deal would dinner be? He’d fly to Colorado, hopefully get his grandmother to back off my business and me forever, then return to California. I wouldn’t see him after that. There would literally be no reason for me to ever see Dane Townsend again.
“Just dinner,” he said softly.
“Okay, uh, that sounds good.”
His shoulders seemed to fall incrementally and he turned, grabbing the receiver off of his phone. “By the way, I got my pilot’s license three years back. We’ll take my plane to Colorado.”
Before I could answer, he brought the phone to his ear and punched in some numbers. He started giving orders to whomever was on the other line, presumably the people responsible for readying his plane for travel, from what my surprised mind grasped.
When he hung up and turned to me, I shook my head. “I already have a return ticket. That’s not necessary.”
“You can get a refund.”
I opened my mouth to speak but then shut it again. Getting a refund—even half—would be a relief. I bit at my lip for a second. A couple of hours at dinner, at the most, and a couple of hours on a plane with Dane where I could pretend to sleep, or read? I could handle that. Couldn’t I? I met his eyes. “Okay.”
“Good,” he murmured, those green eyes studying me in a way that suddenly made me regret the consent I’d given only seconds before. My instincts told me I’d put some vital part of myself in terrible danger.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Then . . .
Audra had never been in a house as grand as the Townsend estate. Not even close. She barely noticed Dane slipping her coat from her shoulders as she gazed in awe at the grand curved stairway sweeping upward from the marble foyer they were standing in. She craned her neck, looking up at a gorgeous mural painted on the ceiling. It was the sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds, ringed in pale pink. There were birds and angels and if she could have, she would have stood gaping at it for hours, trying to take in all the details from where she stood, too far below. But she was nervous too. On the one occasion she’d been in the same place as Dane’s family—at his sister Dalila’s seventeenth birthday party at their country club—Dane’s grandmother had been cold toward her, shooting her disdainful glares. It had made her feel small and ugly, painfully aware of her simple dress and cheap Payless shoes. She hadn’t mentioned it to Dane, and desperately hoped the older woman would warm to her once she had a chance to get to know her better.
“I thought you’d like that,” Dane whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin and causing her to shiver. Audra smiled, turning her head slightly so she could see him. “My little artist.”
She laughed softly, reaching up and placing her hand on his cheek then turning her neck a little more so she could kiss him quickly. “Anything I’ve ever done is a far cry from this masterpiece.” She turned around, craning her head once again as Dane nuzzled her neck. But when the click of heels met her ears, she dropped her hand and stepped away from Dane.
Dane’s grandmother cleared her throat and Audra met her eyes meekly, shy that she’d caught their public display of affection, innocent though it was. Mrs. Townsend raised her chin as she stepped forward. “Audra Kelley. It’s nice to see you again. Welcome to my home.” She extended her hand toward Audra and Audra took it in hers. Mrs. Townsend’s grip was firm, though her hand felt cold and bony. Audra pulled away as quickly as she could while still appearing polite. She hoped.
Audra smiled, praying it looked more steady than it felt. “Mrs. Townsend. Your home is gorgeous. Thank you for having me to dinner.”
Mrs. Townsend nodded once and Dane stepped forward, kissing her on her cheek. “Grandmother,” he said.
Her eyes warmed ever so slightly as she took in her grandson. “Dane.”
She turned and waved her hand, indicating, Audra assumed, that they should follow her. She glanced at Dane and he shot her a wink, his eyes amused. “She’s not as stern as she comes across.”
“I heard that, Dane Michael,” his grandmother said as she walked away, but it made Audra relax slightly. Maybe she did have a softer side to her, despite initial impressions.
They followed her into the dining room and Audra tried not to make it obvious that what she really wanted to do was stop every few steps and gaze at some architectural feature or design element in this luxurious house. If she could, she’d stop time and simply wander through it alone, exploring every nook and cranny, letting her eyes soak in all the impressive details. But she didn’t want to appear too stunned by the surroundings. She didn’t want to make it blatantly obvious that she lived in a house so small it could fit in one room of this mansion. The well-worn, mismatched furnishings probably didn’t cost a fraction of one of the paintings on the wall. She stopped suddenly. Was that a . . . Rembrandt? She couldn’t help it, she gaped.
“It is a Rembrandt.” Audra turned her head quickly from the painting to see Dalila Townsend approaching her, a smile on her face. “If that’s what you were wondering.”
Audra let out a breath, smiling back. “I was. It’s magnificent.”
A moment later, Dane’s sister, Dalila, came to stand in front of the painting with her and gazed at it. “I know. It’s what inspired me to take art lessons. Which, much to my great sadness, are making it clear to me that I have no natural talent.” She glanced at Audra. “Not like you.”
Audra shook her head. “That’s not true. I loved that flower you did a couple of weeks ago.”
“That was a self-portrait.”
She felt her heart drop. “Oh, um, well . . .”