Caroline turned her head to watch him as he spoke, feeling a wash of contentment as he articulated what she’d been unable to express. It reallywasn’tvery interesting.
Brandon snorted. “Tell me what you really think about it,” he said, trying to sneer.
“I just did,” Adrian replied, looking dangerously unamused.
“Possibly you have the minority opinion. Mill’s paintings sell for tens of thousands of dollars,” Brandon defended the artist. “It’s not just me who thinks this series is revolutionary.”
“These paintings sell because they can add a little texture to the wall behind a thirty-thousand-dollar couch,” Adrian said dismissively. “They sell because they’re unobjectionable. Because they’re nothing more than a mirror for whatever vapid thoughts you had about art when you walked into the room. So, I think it’s boring. It barely makes me think at all.”
Brandon’s mouth was hanging slightly open.
Adrian’s fingertips against Caroline’s lower back spread until the palm of his hand pressed against her, turning her toward the exit to the room.
“Would you like to look at the John Singer Sargent watercolors?” he asked courteously.
“Yes,” Caroline said, finding that she was able to exit the conversation with great dignity now.
Adrian’s expression did not shift as he guided her out of the main hall and toward the special-exhibits wing, but he had a faint pink glow over his cheekbones. Caroline leaned into him, brushing his chest with her shoulder, then shoving him with it when he failed to respond.
“That was pretty sexy of you,” she teased him, tugging on his arm in glee. “I don’t think Brandon even saw the blow that killed him.”
Adrian made an amused noise in the back of his throat.“He can’t play Obnoxious Art Guy with me. I originated the role of Obnoxious Art Guy.”
“You’re not obnoxious,” she protested.
“I promise you I was. Though I spoke in fewer clichés than your new friend Brandon.”
“I thought you wanted me to make friends,” Caroline said, tossing out his business card as they passed a waste bin. Maybe the next time they came here, she would. Not everyone had to be as unfun as Brandon.
The museum was open late for the event, but almost everyone was remaining close to the drink stations by the main hall. They passed into the special-exhibits wing, alone except for a few roaming security guards.
“I bet poor Jarret Mill’s ears are burning though,” Caroline said. “Did you two not get along?”
“He can take the heat,” Adrian said, directing them into a side gallery, a room full of romantic, colorful portraits. This was the room of watercolors. They were lovely, a little reminiscent of Adrian’s earlier paintings. He had a not-so-secret soft spot for pretty things, Caroline decided.
“Is he a nice guy, then?”
“He’s just as insecure and unhappy as the rest of us. But at least Jarret has an exhibition at the MFA, and I do not.” He drifted away to study the first painting in the series, and Caroline’s eyes narrowed as she watched him.
“All right,” she said, looking around. The nearest security guard was several rooms away. “Let’s fix that.” The idea had been percolating in the back of her head since the first time he’d mentioned that his work wasn’t on display anywhere. She rummaged in her purse, coming up with a spiral notepad and a pen from the Holiday Inn Express she’d stayed at while moving into her apartment.She tapped Adrian on the shoulder and passed him the ersatz art supplies.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Draw something.”
“For what?”
“You’re going to be in the MFA,” Caroline insisted.
Adrian hesitated, holding the notepad and pen.
“You aren’t even supposed to have a pen in here,” he protested.
“I already met the art police, and I wasn’t impressed,” Caroline said, rolling her eyes. “Just draw something. Anything.” She looked at him expectantly until he braced the notepad against his palm and made a long, fluid movement with the pen, not lifting it from the paper. Perhaps a minute of looping scribbles.
After regarding his work for a second, he proffered it to her.
“Oh, that’s me,” Caroline said with pleasure. It was a simple minimalist line drawing but readily recognizable as Caroline in profile, holding her little glass of white wine. She’d expected a flower or an architectural detail. But it was cute. She looked cute. Part of her wanted to keep it and hang it up in her room with his little flower drawings. But, no, she was committed to her plan.
